


To The Ends of The Earth

by OnceUponaFangirl, TheSassyWitchOfTheNortheast



Series: To The Ends of The Earth [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 01:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 44,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3959092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnceUponaFangirl/pseuds/OnceUponaFangirl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSassyWitchOfTheNortheast/pseuds/TheSassyWitchOfTheNortheast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of her greatest sacrifice, Emma Swan finds herself trapped in a place where all darkness is born. With a captor that's intent on crushing the Savior's heart, can the power of True Love prevail or will she be lost in hell forever? Season 5 canon divergence</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Sara and I are at it again. This time, with our first ever multi-chapter. It is as much mine as it is hers. For quicker updates, follow both of us (@euphoric-melancholyy and @thesassywitchofthenortheast) on Tumblr. We crave your feedback and constructive criticism, so be sure to leave a comment in the designated commenting area below. Enjoy. :)

__**Nothing goes as planned.  
Everything will break.  
People say goodbye.  
In their own special way.  
All that you rely on  
And all that you can fake  
Will leave you in the morning  
But find you in the day **   


* * *

He hears it on a loop, her voice desperate, eyes filled with tears as she pushes him away. Away from her. Away from darkness.  


_I love you_

He’s longed to hear those words, waiting for her walls to subside enough to mutter what they both knew. It was all too familiar, pain blossoming from the bottom of his heart: loss, helplessness, grief all mingling together.

He’s not sure when he started running, or when he fell to his knees in front of the dagger, the engraved letters reflecting in the moonlight.  _Emma Swan_. They pierce through his soul like nothing he has ever felt before.  

(The irony isn’t lost on him. He once spent 300 years trying to kill the dark one and now…)

“Hook,” David calls from behind, placing a supportive hand on his shoulder. He can’t speak, lungs protesting. He can barely breathe and…

_I love you._

It drowns him as his finger reaches the point of the blade, twisting the object delicately over his flesh. He can hear David in the background, attempting to beckon him back to the present. But the air is stinging with each inhale and even if he wanted to reply he’s not sure anything but sobs would come out.

_I love you._

“Hook-” Killian’s arm flings out, pushing the Prince back as he falls further to the ground, inscribing a mark on the road.

“Emma-” David’s voice is a quiet whisper this time as he registers what’s spelled out across the sharp metal. Hearing her name fall from her father’s lips hurts more than it should. Her name was his salvation, it was like a prayer he’d recite over and over again. Now it causes nothing but panic and fear and devastation. Marking his newly healed heart with more wounds that he knows will never heal. Not without her here.

He’s being pulled upwards, four strong hands - David and Robin he assumes - and he can’t move.  _She has to be here. She can’t be gone. She can’t-_

“Killian -” And now he’s back in her room, the last time he heard his name, out of breath as her lips lock with his and it’s wonderfully dizzying. He can still taste her, hear her laughter as they fall onto the bed, feel the steadying beat of her heart under his palm. It’s too much and yet not enough.

“We should get back to the loft, try and piece everything together.” He can hear the pain in her father’s voice, barely concealed with the assurance only a prince would carry.

Killian nods, fully rising to his feet and suddenly it feels like a huge weight has been pressed against him. Making it hard to move, even harder to breathe, making everything dull and lifeless.

They make it to the loft in no time at all and it physically hurts him to be here. To know just hours before she was in his arms smiling and laughing and happy. She deserves to be happy, deserves it more than she knows. And as Killian makes it to the door, it dawns on him that Henry has yet to be informed. No one has told the boy that he has once again lost his mother to darkness.

As soon as they walk in, they all sit at the table, all but Killian. Who chooses instead to perch himself on the sofa, as far away from her family as he can get. He watches with solemn eyes as Regina tells the lad what happened. That the darkness spilled out of Gold’s shop, tried to take her over and then Emma did the unthinkable. Sacrificed herself to save them.

“What do you mean she’s gone?” He hears the young lad’s voice crack, and it feels like another knife is being plunged into his chest.

“She vanished,” Mary Margaret speaks softly, sniffling back tears that Killian has as well. “The darkness took her over and then…”

“So mom’s the new dark one?” Killian can see the boy processing, much like he is doing now. He wants to move to him, reassure him, anything…but his feet feel like lead and his body sags down deeper into the couch. His eyes never leaving the blade.  _This isn’t right, this isn’t fair._

All is quiet for a moment, before Henry speaks again. “How do we get her back?”

“Henry, honey it’s not that simple.”

“Yes it is! She’s still my mom. Deep down Mom is still the savior and she’s out there, somewhere. I know it. She just risked her life, watched Killian die, to bring you all back. To save the day. We have to save her too!” Henry’s insistence seems to give the rest of the family the spark they needed because they’re up and planning faster than Hook expected. But he still doesn’t move to join then, doesn’t shift his gaze from the cursed blade, that’s now the reason that the only two women he’s loved were taken from him.

“Well why don’t we just summon her?” the words roll off Robin’s tongue and it lights a new spark into the group, who turn to look at the broken pirate. A moment passes before Regina speaks up, calling him back to the moment. Slowly, he comes out of his own world, processing what they said several seconds late.

“I . .I…” He squeezes the handle of the dagger.  _After the lifetimes I’ve spent searching for a way to destroy the dark one, I’m pretty certain I’d remember holding that dagger in my hand._  He hadn’t realized it earlier, that he had been holding what he once considered the purpose of living: the key to revenge on the Dark One. It was all so wrong. Emma had chased away the lust for revenge, and in turn, the control that the dagger had on his life. The dagger now hung in the balance between him and love once more. _It was all so wrong._

“I summon-” Three hundred years of waiting. He should be waiting for the Crocodile to appear, not the woman who stole his heart.

“I summon thee” He feels the ache in his heart worsen as their eyes glare at him - into him. He’d never let people see him this vulnerable, in this much pain. He swore to himself after Milah that no one would ever see him weak again. But this was Emma.

“I summon thee, Dark One” he chokes out, gripping the object so tightly that it bruises his fingers. He waits. No one. Nothing. He repeats it, but she’s gone. Unresponsive. Still not here.

“Why the bloody hell isn’t it working?” He exclaims, holding the dagger higher in the air. It quivered with the anguish in his hold.

“I don’t know. But I know someone who might.” Charming says, his voice steadying out by the end of response. Killian raises an eyebrow. “The Apprentice.”

He’s there within five minutes but Killian isn’t processing the situation again. He’s zoning in and out; picking up fragments or words about light and dark magic. How it’s overpowering. It had nowhere manifest itself. He thinks he hears the words “not” and “Storybrooke” somewhere meshed together but he’s slumped back down into the cushions, reaching for his flask in his pocket after chucking the dagger towards the edge of the couch.

“Killian?” Snow cautiously approaches him, taking the empty spot to his left. “Are you okay?”

“How the hell do you think I am? Did you expect me to be frolicking through the bloody forest.” He doesn’t intend for his tone to sound so bitter, to be so hostile towards her, but the last thing he wants to hear is another “hope speech”. He wants to drink, and sulk, and miss  _her_.

“Before she left, Emma said something. What was it?”

It’s like pouring rum on an open wound, just when Emma’s words stopped ringing in his ears they come rushing back with a force so strong it nearly knocks him to his knees. “‘I love you.’ She said ‘I love you.’”

“Good.” He has to blink a few times, his face awash with unspoken questions and shocked.  “And do you love her?”

“Aye.”

“Then you’ll find her.”

“How is it that you and the prince can be so infuriatingly hopeful?” He wants to roll his eyes, to run upstairs away from the masses and be with something tangibly hers. Not the cursed dagger. It wasn’t hers. It couldn’t be.

“I’m gonna let you in a little secret, Hook. If you love someone and they love you…”

“They will always find you.” Killian finished her sentence with a soft exhale. Closing his eyes, slowly, and picturing Emma’s face. Her emerald eyes, her hair of gold, her smile that lights up his entire world.

_I love you._

He only opens his eyes again, when he feels Snow get up. Killian turns to the open window, his gaze lifting to the stars that seem to have lost their usual glimmer. 

_I love you, too, Swan._

-/-/-

The ground is cold beneath her palms, her body buzzing with adrenaline and magic. She groans in pain as she shifts, coming to rest against what appears to be a stone wall. As her eyes adjust to the new darkness that surrounds her, the blonde quickly realizes she’s not in Storybrooke anymore.

“Where the hell am I?”

A dark voice rises from behind her. It’s laced with sin and power, “You’re in my world now.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everybody go hug the pirate because he really misses his princess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This goes out to our amazing friend Kayla who's bubbly and selfless personality makes everyday a little better. Happy belated birthday, you precious cupcake! Once again, this entire fic is both mine and Sara's.

_So far away from where you are_

_These miles have torn us worlds apart_

_And I miss you, yeah I miss you_

_So far away from where you are_

_I'm standing underneath the stars_

_And I wish you were here_

__

Killian sneaks out of the loft while the others are preoccupied with the Apprentice. The longer he stays there, the more he misses her. The more his heart aches with the need to find her; to bring her home, wrap his arms around her and possibly never let go.

He walks with no clear direction, just away. Away from the pain, away from her family, away from everything that is Emma. He pulls his flask out of his jacket, taking a long sip of his rum as he stops at the corner. The docks are down the block, where the Jolly is moored and the air is cooler. Where her presence isn’t so overwhelming, where he feels like he can actually breathe.

But the closer he gets to his ship, his home, the harder it gets to bring himself to walk down the gangplank. Because now this too reminds him of her. Her hair whipping in the wind, her commanding voice as they get ready to fire at the dragon…Muscle Memory. He stares at the white sails and bright yellow trim, the beating in his chest loud in his ears. He takes a deep breath, another swig of rum and turns towards the water's edge, towards the curb where they sat and watched the horizon.

(Where she watched the horizon and he watched her.)

It's suffocating and he tries to drown the memories with more rum. He hasn’t wanted to drink his sorrows away in so long. Not since the night of their first (third) date, when he was manipulated by the Crocodile and felt himself slipping back to the man he knew wasn’t nearly good enough to have someone like Emma. Someone whose light is so radiant, so powerful it’s almost impossible not to fall in love with her.

Killian takes another sip, falling back against the curb, his eyes fixed on the sky, and it hurts. His love for the savior has been all consuming since the day he met her and each time they’ve been torn apart it feels like his heart is being ripped out, crushed, and put back together if only to repeat the process.

The rum burns in his throat, but just as before, it does nothing to quench his need for her. It doesn't stop his mind from replaying all the prominent moments of their lives together. It’s the sleeve of her caramel leather jacket encased around his hook as he pulls her closer, speaking once again of trust, barriers breaking down because _I can’t lose you too._ He laughs to himself, thinking back to how well he thought he knew her then. She was so guarded, and after being burned numerous times, he just knew that she had to be pushing him away because she didn’t trust him. After all, _I can’t take the chance that I’m wrong about you._ But he had missed the bullet and kicked himself for not realizing it sooner, for jumping to conclusions, especially when he had a similar story of love and loss. Now communication flows more deeply, even without words. They convey their emotions through longing gazes, eyes sparkling with fear, pain, understanding. They speak through kisses, their tongues intertwining saying more together than they can apart. Through touch, they show support, the need to be held, their desire to be around the other. They expose their hearts.

His mind jogs back to their time in Neverland; where each moment spent with her was like handing over another piece of his heart. Placing them willing in her hands without a second thought. It’s all he’s wanted, to love her and be loved by her in return.

_So when I win your heart, Emma, and I will win it. It will not be because of any trickery it will be because you want me._

Never had Killian wanted something to be so true in his life - to be with her; body, mind, and soul. For her heart to belong to him just as much as his belonged to her. To know that no matter what happened, their hearts would beat as one. That he could feel her heart as much as he feels his own. And somewhere along the way, between witches and curses and old enemies, love found them.  

His eyes are bloodshot, the tears now steadily falling with each inhale of alcohol. He can hardly catch his breath as he forces the substance into his bloodstream, tilting his head back and shutting his eyes. It makes visions of her clearer until the gears in his brain stop churning and he drifts off to sleep on the asphalt.

-/-/-

He wakes to a tall figure kicking him once in the shin, a frustrated prince waiting. “Get up.”

“Bloody hell, mate. Let a man sleep.” His hand goes to his head, massaging it in a failed effort to make the throbbing halt. When he looks up, David’s extended hand offers two white pills and a mug of coffee in the form of the relief he needed. He sits beside him, grabbing his hooked arm and pulling him upright.. “What do you want?” he asks, swallowing the medication down.

“I came to check up on you.” he says with a sigh. looking towards the empty flask to his left

“I didn’t realize you cared so much.” Any other time Killian would have smirked to himself, grateful to have won her father over, but now it just hurts. It reminds him of how far they’ve come since overprotective dad threats and She will never like you. You’re nothing but a pirate. So instead he chooses to look down, a cynical and annoyed mood overshadowing him.

“You’re family, Hook. You have been for a while now and,” Charming motions to the flask “Emma wouldn’t want this”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Dave, but Emma isn’t here” There’s a new fire in his eyes, in his tone and God help him if he has to clench his fists to keep from shaking. The same look of pain is reflected in David’s eyes and Killian tries to swallow back his words.

“No, but Henry is. He needs you. We all do. You’ve brought her home, back to us, so many times before - after Pan’s curse, when she was Princess Leia and earlier when she forgave us - that was because of you. We can’t find her without you.”

He had to admit, the name Charming definitely suited him “Is that a compliment?”

“Yes. Now come on, Operation Swan starts at the library in an hour. And pack a bag, you're staying with us until we find Emma-”

“I’d rather-”

“You’re staying with us. End of discussion.” Any doubts that he had about where Emma got her stubbornness from were put to rest in that moment. He complied, letting the prince help lead him to the Jolly.

-/-/-

It’s obvious that no one truly slept when Killian arrives. Regina and Mary Margaret are gripping mugs of coffee, bags accenting their tired eyes. He notices the red coloring of her mother's eyes when she embraces him, directing him to the coffee pot Belle had put in the library. He pours another cup as Regina begins.

Emma had always been the anomaly. And now was no different. The Queen went over in more detail what was briefly discussed with the Apprentice the night before.

“It’s too much magic for one person to handle. The strongest light magic in all the realms versus the strongest dark magic. . . The moment it entered her, a battle for dominance began. Typically, this power would be enough to kill-”

“Her name is on the dagger. She-she’s the Dark One. The Dark One can’t die. Mom-”

Regina’s face breaks for her son, whose desperate tone cuts even deeper than before. “She’s not dead. She’s- I don’t know where she is. But she’s not dead, honey I promise you.”

Her picture is plastered on the platform he used when trying to get the fairies out of the hat. It’s surrounded by names, titles. Savior. Dark One. Product of True Love. His personal favorite, Emma Swan. Because no matter what she did or did not do, void of magic or overpowered by it, she would always be his Emma. His Emma’s magic was found in her laugh, in the way she put herself last, even behind her enemies. It was the story in her eyes; the one of overcoming a harsh reality, the look of adoration - dare he say love - whenever she looked at him.  

Under the titles, there are bulleted points, facts, such as the Dark One can’t die. The Queen is scribbling letters under that bracket - name on dagger - not supposed to disappear - did not kill Gold - dagger not in control. In between the two categories of Saviour and Dark One, he sees light vs, dark followed by a question mark. Where is she?

“When magic is too strong, what does it do?” Killian speaks up, interrupting Regina.

“It finds somewhere else to manifest itself.”

“Like how it tethered itself to Emma?”

“You’re onto something pirate, what is it?”

No one is stronger than Emma. She’s the only one who can’t have her heart (physically) taken, unless you count the protection spell put on Henry’s. (He didn’t).

“Could it possibly travel to a different place, that can contain more magic?”

“Like a netherworld? Or the Enchanted Forest?” David asked, or answered. Either way, Killian could feel a something that resembled a smile forming on his face. A starting place. It was hope.  


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry it's so long. Tell us what you think! Co-ownership with Sara (@thesassywitchofthenortheast on Tumblr)

_**And I’m gonna find my way** _

_**Back to you side** _

**_Like ships in the night_ **

* * *

The last thing she registered was falling, her body being sucked into a black portal like a vacuum cleaner, where the laws of gravity dissipate and she wakes in unfamiliar surroundings. Her body aches as she positions herself upright, scanning along the edges of the gray, rock walls that are supporting her. It’s dimly lit, three lanterns providing slithers of lights in the increasingly small room. Movement hurts, magic and adrenaline flowing from her fingertips and spreading throughout her entire body.

“Where the hell am I?” she mumbles, placing her hand on a bruise to try and relieve it.

“You’re in my world now.” The voice ricochets off the walls; it’s sinister, powerful, and if getting a response didn’t terrify her, he did.

“And where the hell would that be?”

“You know, princess, it’s funny that you say that.” The tall figure emerges from the corner, and it sends a shock through her system. The ominous nature of his voice does nothing but enhance his nefarious appearance. In her years as the Savior and throughout her time in the Enchanted Forest (and Neverland), Emma has seen her fair share of vile creatures, but nothing compared to the man standing before her. He was like death walking; pallid skin; yellow, red-rimmed eyes; hair as black as the night sky. He was every bit dangerous and deadly. “You’re not supposed to be here. Then again,” he flips his wrist with an open palm, “You were never supposed to become the Dark One either. Guess I can take care of that last one for you.”

And with another flick of his finger, it feels like the flesh is being ripped from her bones, darkness clawing its way out of her, circling in the air and suffocating her lungs. Her eyes go wide and she leans forward, mouth agape. One sharp inhale and it’s all over. She collapses limp on the floor, cursing under her breath as her vision blurs.

“Bada-bing, bada-boom, you’re back to being little Orphan Annie again.”

“I have a family.” It takes all her remaining strength to speak, but she  _will_ defend them if it’s the last thing she does.

“So it would seem, but you’re here and they’re well, not. What makes you think they’d come down to the depths of the earth for you?”

“Call it a family trait.”

“Hmm.” He ponders, eyes growing darker, his lips tilting up in a demonic smirk. “That may be, princess, but if they think you’re dead…”

“Why would they think I’m dead? And stop calling me princess, I’m not a princess.”

“Oh but you are. Emma Swan, daughter of Snow White and Prince  _Charming_ , the Princess of Misthaven, the Savior. You’re one of the most infamous women in all the realms.”

“Should I be flattered?”

“You should be worried. A woman with your magic, stuck in this ghastly place.” His maniacal, stereotypical laughter escapes, sending chills up her spine. “The things I could do…you see you may have happened upon my little ‘Kingdom’ by accident, took on too much power for a mortal, found yourself stuck with a bunch of useless souls, but that doesn’t mean I can’t…find a way to kill you myself? Since you so lovingly placed yourself amongst the dead whilst technically still being alive. That is an impressive feat, I must say.”

“Dead? What do you mean ‘among the dead’?”

“You’re in the Underworld, sweetheart.” He extends his hand, “Name’s Hades, Lord of the Dead. Hi, how ya doing?” His eyes grow even darker, his tone dripping with sarcasm, as he looms over her. “And we’re about to have some fun.”

In an instant, she’s chained to the floor, his gruesome silhouette slowly backing away as the shackles chafe into her wrists.

-/-/-

Killian’s been running on caffeine and the burning desire to bring Emma home for three days straight. What little sleep he’s gotten has been short naps at odd nooks and crannies in the library, enveloped in a pile of books at every turn. Belle tells him he needs to go home, lie in an actual bed and take care of himself. He counters, saying that Emma is his home and, “I’ll sleep when I’m dead, or whenever she’s here - whichever comes first.” She gives him the keys and does most of her research on the magic box, a technology and concept Killian has yet to grasp. Snow and Charming join him, but only for hours at a time, always rushing. Rushing to get the baby home, to get back to the Station, the school, wherever their responsibilities lie. Henry is with him after 3:30, when the bell dismisses him and the bus drops him off at the Mayor’s house. He stays the longest, until his mother drags her disheveled son home.

Killian’s leaning against one of the numerous bookshelves, letting his body slump down to the ground as he reads, thumb tracing the words as if it’ll provide a clue to her whereabouts. (It doesn’t - just nonsense words about an animal he’s never seen.) “Henry-” his eyes flutter up as the boy walks in, dropping his bag on the floor. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at school?”

“It’s Saturday. And lunchtime.”

“Oh,” he mumbles, returning his focus to the book.

“Come on.”

He lets the boy drag him to the diner, using the short walk to perk himself up. He may let the others see him miserable and hurting, but not Henry. Never Henry. He needs to stay positive and hopeful for the young Swan, or Mills. (Whatever last name he goes by now.) Though the lad has a tendency to radiate hope at every turn. (Just as his mother seems to radiate beauty and love at every turn.)

Killian takes a deep breath as they enter the small court yard in front of the diner. He knows the looks that await them. The rest of the townsfolk seem to pity them, seem to only see his Love as the Savior and nothing more. Not a mother, not the sheriff, not his world. Just the Savior and now that her job is done…

“What can I get you boys?” The Widow Lucas says, placing the worn menus down as they slide into their usual booth by the back.

“Grilled Cheese for me and…” Henry turns to him with a smile.

“I’ll take the same, milady.”

“You got it, two grilled cheeses coming right up.” She swiftly takes the menus back, placing her hand on Killian’s shoulder in comfort. Over the past months he’s been staying at the Inn; it seems the old wolf has grown fond of the reformed pirate.

“So, how’s the researching going?”

“It’s not. It seems Operation Swan is stagnant.”

“Operation Swan?”

“Is that not the name you came up with?”

“Nope. I think that was all Grandpa. I would’ve come up with something far less obvious.” He pauses, laughing under his breath. “Operation Swan.”

“Alright, what name would you like to call it then, my boy?”

“I don’t know. It’s the biggest mission we’ve had. Probably aside from Operation Mongoose. It needs a good name.”

“Something less conspicuous.”

“Exactly.” He pauses as the old woman returns with their meals; he picks up a fry, waving it around as he speaks. “Do you have any ideas?”

Killian ponders for a moment, his brows knitting together as he takes a bite of his sandwich. “Well the mission is to find her and bring her home.” He thinks back to a time when he had to sail across realms and outrun a damn curse to find her, and it hits him. Hard and fast. Exactly what they should call their newest adventure. “Do you remember how I told you that a good sailor must know the constellations? How to find his way using the sextant?”

“Yeah…”

“When I had to find your mother in New York and save her, and you, from the monkey, there was one in particular that I always looked for.”

“Which was what? Let me guess, the Big Dipper?”

“No,” Killian laughs, “The Cygnus, or the Swan as some call it.” He subconsciously runs his hand across his heart, over the tattoo only he and his Swan know about.

“Operation Cygnus? I like it.” It’s different with Henry than it is with her parents. Both David and the young boy carry her fire and optimism, but Henry’s is sacred, to be protected at all costs. Maybe it’s the age gap, and that he’s come to think of the lad as a son. Henry makes the day more bearable, and as long as he has him, he has some part of Emma still with him. He wants to teach him as he did with Henry’s father, the way of the sea, forgiveness, that _a man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets_ , and the lessons that Hook, himself, took centuries to learn. He has the same spark in his eyes as his mother, the hope lurking behind the shadows of her fears. It’s more prevalent in Henry.  _Sacred_. It gives him the push he needs, to do right by him, by her, and be the best he can.  _I’m going to choose to see the best in you_. He asks him about school, relationships, classes, having Mary-Margaret as a teacher. He listens as the boy tells him that his favorite subject is World History, and the stories of the Kings and Queens in this realm, and why having his grandmother as a teacher is as horrible as it sounds, but when his mother's’ are the two most powerful people in town, no one says a word. Just like his mother, Killian learns that Henry is a bit of a loner, but has found a friendship in Paige, Ava, and Nick that makes locker breaks less lonely and gives him something to distract himself. He’s heard Emma tell similar stories, hers far more painful to hear, in the dead of night after being awoken by a dream, or when insomnia pulls her mind back to the past, reminiscing on how she never thought she could have this - him - a family. His heart aches for her, and he begins to feel guilty. He shouldn’t be here. He should be trying to find her.

“You’re staying with grandpa, right?” Henry asks, noting the sudden urgency and uncomfortable way he was sitting.

“Officially, yes.”

“And unofficially, you’re crashing on the library floor?”

Killian bites his tongue as his gaze drifts downward. “What’s your point, lad?”  

“That you need sleep. Like a lot of sleep. You should stay at the loft.”

“I’ll take your concern into consideration,” he says, taking the last bite of his meal. Henry rolls his eyes.

“I miss her too,” he whispers. “We’ll find her.”

“I sure hope so,” Killian says, rising from his seat and grabbing his jacket.

-/-/-

His entrance to the loft is awkward, challenging himself in how many books he can carry and struggling to knock. “David! He’s here,” Mary Margaret calls when she opens the door. “Come on in, Hook. There’s leftover dinner still on the stove for you.” He complies, setting the books on the coffee table in front of the sofa. It was a quarter ’til nine, and he was surprised to see the baby still wide awake, cradled in his mother’s arms. “We’re so glad you changed your mind.”

Killian smiles, grabbing a bowl from the cupboard and filling it with the pasta, thanking her and taking a seat at the counter. “After lunch, I went back to the library. According to Belle, we can rule out The Netherworld. The only way to get there is by a sleeping curse, which Emma is most certainly not under,” he adds sarcastically.

“Hey, it’s one step closer,” Snow says, leaning over the island after handing Neal off to David.

“Not close enough,” he mutters, stabbing the noodles with his fork. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You have every right to be frustrated, Killian.” The reformed bandit pauses. “If you want to take a shower, I washed your clothes - I hope you don’t mind. They’re folded on Emma’s bed. There’s clean towels in the bathroom under the sink.”

“Uh,” his hand goes back to scratch behind his ear, head ducking down - his telltale nervous sign -  because he does not want to look at her right now, the care and generosity beaming in her eyes. “Thank you.” He will never be used to this, his makeshift family. He never thought they’d care, especially in Emma’s absence. It was Emma that tied them together as one in the first place.  _You can join us and be a part of something, or you can do what you do best and be alone._  But here he was, the Charmings proving him wrong. (He’s grown fond of them proving him wrong; each time it brings more love into his life that he hadn’t realized was there.)

“I’ll clean up dinner,” she says, snatching the now empty bowl. “Go.” Snow motions with her head to the general direction of the bathroom. Killian nods in compliance.

He knew being at the loft would be difficult, but he hadn’t anticipated the sheer agony of being in Storybrooke without her. To see her everywhere and yet nowhere at the same time. Her shampoo sits idly in the shower, her make-up still thrown haphazardly around the sink. He turns the faucet off, grabbing the navy towel and walking across the small room.

He wipes the condensation off the mirror before leaning against the cool counter top. His hand gripping the marble until his knuckles are white. Killian opens his eyes, staring at himself as he feels his heart twist and pinch at the memory of the last time he was in this room…

_“Hey.” He smiles, resting against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest. His shirt is still half buttoned and his hair still askew. “I remade the bed for you.” His princess flashes him a quick smirk before turning her attention back to her own reflection. This casual intimacy with her is something he’s come to cherish, almost as much as he cherishes her. He lets his gaze drift from her face, down her lean form and back up again before pushing himself off of the wall and coming to stand behind her. Killian places his hand and hook on either sides of his Swan, his chin coming to rest on her shoulder. (Only after placing a kiss to her temple, her cheek, and finally her neck.) She smiles brightly at him through the mirror, knocking her head to the side and into his affectionately. He can see the words she wants desperately to say just behind her eyes, can see the internal struggle she’s having over something so small and yet almost life-altering at the same time. He had contemplated saying them first, letting those three words fall from his lips as she ran her hand across his chest. When her head fell against his shoulder, her body snug against his side. But he bit his tongue, let the reins stay in her possession. He can be patient. For her, he can wait. She’s worth it all, anyway. “When are we to meet your parents?”_

_“In a few minutes.” Her tone is light and her body relaxed. She’s happy, and it warms his heart like nothing has before._

_He hums in response as she finishes re-applying her eyeliner and turns to face him. Her hand runs through his hair, and he lets his eyelids drop, lets himself indulge fully in this quiet moment with her. They’ve been few and far between since the Queens of Darkness and the Crocodile snaked their way into town. But it’s over now, the heroes have won, and Emma is back in his arms once more._

_“Promise me something.”_

_Killian opens his eyes at her soft spoken words, letting his own hand drift up from her waist and across her cheek. “Anything, love.”_

_“Promise me that no matter what comes next, whether it be another villain or just normal everyday tasks, that we’ll face them together? Losing you like I did today…” She pauses, her forehead coming to rest against his own. “I don’t want…You and I…Just promise me we’ll do it together. Everything and anything, we’ll overcome it together.”_

_“I promise, Emma, that as long as you’ll have me, I will be by your side. I will always be here to protect you and Henry…”_

_“And my heart?”_

_“And your heart. Always.”_

He shakes his head as the memory fades, reaching for the sleeping clothes he had bought with his new “Storybrooke attire” before their first date and slipping them on. When he emerges from the bathroom, he begins rummaging through the closet for a sheet and sprawling it out across the couch.

“What are you doing?” Snow asks, glancing at him from her room. “You’re not sleeping on the couch.”

“I just assumed…”

“Go sleep upstairs, Killian. It’s not like you haven’t before.” In the background, David’s face twists uncomfortably; the feeling is reciprocated by Killian. He waits a moment before nodding reluctantly and making his way up the metal stairs.

Each step he takes is like another weight pushing against him. It’s odd to be here without her, to sleep in her bed - on his side without Emma on hers. But he also knows he needs to sleep, knows he is in no condition to save her this way. Killian slowly lowers himself onto the mattress, his head falling to the side as his eyes land on her red jacket hanging from the handle of the armoire. She had left it behind when they went to Granny’s to celebrate. A teasing line on the tip of her tongue about using his jacket if she got cold. Killian had only smiled and kissed the smirk off her face. He takes a deep breath, turning to stare up at the ceiling. He had hoped, when he brought her back from New York, that he’d never have to feel the pain of losing her again.

Killian’s eyes start to close, the exhaustion of the past three days finally catching up to him. He’s about to drift off when he hears voices from downstairs. Her mother’s whisper harsh against the quiet air of the loft..

“I miss her too, David. I want to bring her home as much as you and Killian do, but you can’t keep this up. You’re wearing yourself thin.”

Killian rolls onto his side, having every intent to ignore the couple and try to fall asleep. (The scent of Emma’s perfume still lingers on her pillow, and he draws it closer. Hoping his mind allows him to dream of her, laughing and smiling and safe.) But as David’s reply bounces off the walls, he can’t help but listen.

“I know that, but I refuse to give up on her again. We just got her back, Snow.”

“And we’ll have her back again soon, but you also have Neal to think of. Emma is strong. She will fight this just as hard as she fought before, with all the people who love her fighting for her, too. We will bring her home, but not like this.”

-/-/-

She can feel his presence long before she sees him. Can smell the death that burns off his skin, hear the cries of lost souls, taste the despair that encompasses the air around her. He carries a dark aura with him, making her light magic sizzle and pop beneath her muscles.

Emma twists from her position on the floor, the irons around her wrists rattling with each movement. She’s already tired of his games - the back and forth, the fishing for information, his twisted sense of humor. It’s enough to drive her mad, but she won’t go there, she won’t break. She has Henry to think of, her parents,  _Killian_.

“Hello, Princess.”

“Hades.” She brings her eyes up to his face, doing her best to conceal any emotion he could use against her.

“I have something to show you.” He pulls her to stand, his grip on her arm anything but gentle. “I thought since you keep going on and on about your disgustingly hopeful family, I might show you what they’ve been up to since you landed here.”

“What do you mean?” Emma holds her breath, her pupils blown wide with fear.

“Ever heard of mirror magic, Princess?” Hades waves his hand unenthusiastically until a black framed mirror appears on the wall. “How about we check in on your parents, hm?” 

She swallows hard, keeping her gaze focused on the glass as the fog disappears. She expects to see them huddled around a mountain of books, papers strewn around tables and chairs, empty mugs and tired eyes. But when the image becomes clear, she feels her heart stop. Her unspoken fear bubbling to the surface. “No…” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it has taken us so long to update. On the plus side, it's super long to make up for it. If you really want to have more feels over this fic, listen to "Tessa" from Transformers: Age of Extinction. Chapter lyrics from "Battle Cry" by Imagine Dragons. As always, I couldn't write this without my co-author Sara.

J _ **ust one more time before I go**_

_**I’ll let you know** _

_**That all this time I’ve been afraid** _

_**Wouldn’t let it show** _

_**Nobody can save me now, no** _

_**Nobody can save me now** _

_**** _

It disappears in a haze of fog, her parents’ words ringing in her ears. She’s not sure if it's some sort of sadistic dark magic making them echo off the walls or if it’s her own conscience torturing her. Their figures appeared in the mirror, playing with her brother at the local playground outside of the school. “Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this…” Charming said, setting their son down on a blanket. “David, you have to accept that she’s gone. There is nothing we can do to bring her back…” Emma felt her breath hitch anticipating the next part. “Even if there was, maybe this town is better off not having a Dark One. Her magic was powerful enough before... and now... Maybe it’s less dangerous for everyone, including our son, without so much power around.”

She was divided. Logically, she knew it was an illusion, but she had seen a similar scene play out before, when her mother shielded the baby away from her magic, fear prevalent in her eyes. And she wasn’t wrong. She could feel the fear bubbling to anger in Mary Margaret’s tone after her magic went haywire, a pole bruising her father’s shoulder. And that was when she was teeming with only light magic. Now, for all her parents knew, she was consumed by the darkest of magic as well. They were right to presume she was dangerous. Regardless of the fact that her captor had relinquished her of the Dark One’s curse.

“So, Princess, that’s quite the _charming_ pair of parents you got there.”

“Clever, I haven’t heard that one before. Really original.” She couldn’t hide the pain in her voice. It’s only been three days, but if feels worse than Neverland - the hopelessness, despair, and death beleaguering every corner. Hades presence only amplified it.

“Quite sarcastic today, aren’t we?”

“What can I say? You’re rubbing off on me.” But her mind was still playing back what she had seen, running through the possible truths of it. She could hear him, feel him laughing at her and she questions whether or not gods can read minds - she shakes it off, deciding it a ludicrous idea and trying to distract herself with thoughts of Killian.

“You think about that pirate quite often don’t you?” Hades smirks, “Yes, yes I can read your mind. I have been this whole time. It’s not that shocking, really.” He lets out an annoyed sigh. “You mortals are astonished by the simplest of things.”

“Go to hell.” She bites back, teeth clenched and her heart pounding in her ears.

“Darling, I’m already there.” And once again her mind betrays her because she can hear his voice - Killian’s voice - flirtatious and full of life as he teases her; _Darling, as much as I love where this is going, perhaps we should take this up to my quarters? Granny can be quite the devil when it comes to public displays of affection_. Against her will, she smiles, thinking back to the end of their fifth date; when they were making out like bunch of teenagers in the back hall of the diner. (It was also the night that she found out about the rest of his tattoos.) “He means quite a lot to you doesn’t he?”

“Don’t you dare bring him into this.”

“You’re the one that can’t stop thinking about him? Let me guess he’s your boyfriend?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m only curious, Emma. Getting to know my new houseguest.”

“I could tell by all your questions.”

“So tell me about him, this Captain of yours.” Hades, flicks his wrist, a small thorne appearing and sitting down gracefully. “Do you love him?” She shuts her eyes, head dropping down as she bites her lower lip to keep from trembling. “I’ll take that as a yes. Does he love you?” He pauses, tilting his head back with a contented sigh at her silence. “Oh that poor man, how long has he been in love with you? Days? Months? Years? Did he fall on his own accord or did you use your magic and make him love you?  Is that what this is? Were you just so desperate for a man to love you that you bewitched the first one available to you? What did Pan used to call him? Ah yes a ‘one handed pirate with a drinking problem’. That is a nice choice, I must say, so broken from losing the love of his life by the hands of the Dark One, must have been easy to bend him to your will.”

“SHUT UP!”

“Oh have I hit a nerve?” Hades stands. “So sorry, I’ll leave you to your thoughts.”

He’s gone in a puff of smoke, leaving Emma to curl into herself, shaking with a million different emotions crawling through her and wishing she could just disappear.

-/-/-

He’s hunched over a table, battered and torn books surrounding him. With a mangled sigh, Killian brings his gaze from the tattered page to Belle; who's sitting across from him, tapping a pen against her cheek in concentration. The brunette librarian purses her lips as she scans the words in front of her, scribbling something down as she goes. And, gods above, does it make him miss Swan more. Miss the way she bites her lip as she thinks, the way she runs a hand through her gold spun hair, the way she’ll look up at him from under her lashes. Gracing him with that brilliant smile of hers, or, his personal favorite, (something she started doing during those blissful six weeks) shoot him a quick wink and lean across the table with an all too brief kiss to his lips.

It’s odd, doing research and tackling this new mission without Emma. Though he’s embraced the part of “hero” and doing what must be done to save the day, to do it without _her_ \- the only reason he wanted to be seen as such in the first place - makes him feel empty, like there is no real purpose for this desire he has to do the right thing. _The heroic thing._

“I know that face.” Belle’s voice breaks his train of thought, forcing him to look up from the page he’s been on for the past five minutes. “Are you doubting yourself again?”

“Just wondering what the point of all this is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Being a hero, it’s not worth it if Emma’s not here. There’s no point.”

“Killian,” she stands with him. “We’ll find her. You’re going to bring her home and you’re going to do it by being the hero that she’s always seen you as. This is your chance to show her that you are exactly the kind of man that she’s always known you to be. Honorable, valiant, courageous and true. You may think you only became a hero because of Emma, but that part of you has been there all along. She just happened to be the person to bring it back out of you.”

“Hero or not, how the bloody hell are we going to find her? It’s been over a week.”

“It took time to free the fairies as well. It wasn’t instantaneous-”

“We don’t have time! She could be anywhere. There’s a multifarious number of realms, some of which we may not even know about, let alone a way to get there!” he pauses, pacing back and forth between two tables when he suddenly stops. “Realms..” he whispers. rushing over to the board with her name and tapping his finger on her picture, repeating the same whispered word “realms, realms, how did I not think of it before?”

“What?”

“A few nights ago-” before he had gotten any sleep, ripping through pages of books during some ungodly hour when the rest of the town was curled up in their beds sleeping, relaxing. “I came across a particular bit of wizardry that could lead us to her location if she happen to be in a land..I believe it was called Misthaven, which sounds familiar but then again it was…”

“Killian that’s the Enchanted forest!” She exclaims. “That’s where Rumple,” she swallows at the thought of her ex, who she has yet to sort out her feelings for after everything went to hell. “The Dark One, traditionally has always specifically roamed there. Where was the book?”

Killian sprints towards the back of the library, followed by Belle, recalling the book and pulling it from the shelf. They call Regina, and the Charmings, who are all there within ten minutes of dialing.

“What’s so urgent, Mascot?” Regina asks as the Charmings’ walk through the door.   

“I think we’ve a way to find Emma.” He practically slams the old book onto the table, flipping furiously to the page they need. “This spell, it can locate exactly where Swan is.”

“Assuming she’s in the Enchanted Forest,” Belle adds quickly.

“Right, which we’re fairly certain she is, because all the past Dark Ones have resided there.” Killian tries not to sound too hopeful, but this is the first solid lead they’ve had. “Can you do it?” he lifts his gaze to the Queen, eyebrow raised in question.

She walks to the table, grabbing the tome with a nod of her head. “We’re in luck, I happen to have everything we need for this in my vault, other than something from each of you that ties you to Emma.”

“Like what exactly?” Charming chimes in.

“For this to work, we need as much sentimentality as possible. So it has to be an object that has an importance to your connection to her. Like your sword, she used that to defeat Maleficent during the first curse, it ties the two of you together. I’ll need something from you and Snow, KIllian and Henry.”

“Why not you, too?” Mary Margaret asks.

“Emma and I don’t have a strong enough connection. Not in a ‘love’ capacity anyway.”

They depart, rejoined by Henry in half an hour, and place their object of choice in a pile. After a small internal debate, Killian decides on the black scarf used to bandage her hand at the top of the beanstalk. The others had more recognizable items; Mary Margaret with Emma’s baby blanket, Henry with the Walkie Talkie he uses during “missions”, and at the suggestion of Regina, Charming adds his sword to the collection. With hopeful eyes, they watch as Regina’s words ignite a bright light.

-/-/-

“Good morning, Princess.” Hades says, gliding in from the shadowed edge of the cave. She doesn’t bother replying, just remains dormant in her position, still chained against the wall. It’s been two weeks since she first saw her parents give up the search for her through the mirror, and it’s been playing on an almost constant rerun. Each time is different; different words, different scenarios, all with the same or a similar result: they don’t love her, or won’t choose her. “What’s got your spirits down, sweetheart? Miss your family?” Hades kneels down, roughly cupping her face in his scabrous hand, lifting her head up so that he can glare into her tired eyes. He smiles wickedly, satisfied, and lets her face fall back against the concrete as he releases her. “Let’s pay them a visit, shall we?”

At first she doesn’t watch, tries not to listen, as this time her father goes on about not wanting her dark - something about how as long as she’s the Dark One, they can’t have her back in Storybrooke. That even without her being the Dark One, life has been easier. But this time there’s something different, running footsteps, and.. _could it be?_ “You may have stopped looking for Emma, but I haven’t.” And with that, he’s off, rushing towards a direction she can’t see with the mirror’s limited peripheral.

“Killian…” Emma breathes, her heart rate increasing and rising to her feet, the chains pulling her back when she tries to advance forward.

_She’s sitting on the couch in the Sheriff’s station, the last light of day shining through the blinded window. It’s been slow and quiet since Ingrid was defeated and Gold was forced across the town line. The only real work that needed to be done is paperwork. Emma places the manila folder down to her left, picking up the next from the pile. And that’s when she sees it, Henry’s storybook laying on one of the unused desks. She contemplates reaching for it, riffle through the pages of tales she’s either read or been told a million times, but there is still a large pile of complaints to get through and Emma had promised herself she’d get it done today. She shakes her head, turning her attention back to the crisp white papers in her lap. But every few seconds, her gaze lifts up, her eyes landing on the binding of the magical artifact, like it’s calling to her. Demanding to be read. She gives in after a few more minutes, telling herself to just take a quick peek and get back to work._

_Emma settles back onto the old sofa, sitting crossed legged and placing the book down in her lap. She skips to her parents story, the one that she and Killian had inadvertently changed, smiling as the memories of their adventure flash in her mind. And that’s when she sees it, in bold letters across from a picture of her father and Killian by a fire. **I’d go to the end of the world for her, or time.** She lets out a breath she hadn’t known was held back, swallowing down the overwhelming feelings that plagued her. It still shocks her, how far he’s willing to go for her - with her, but it no longer scares her. In fact, it probably makes her love him more. Not that she’s ready to admit that to anyone but herself._

_“Swan?”_

_She jumps at his voice, the book falling closed against her leg. “Killian, what are you doing here?”_

_“I just thought since it’s been quiet around here, we could go down by the docks? Have a moment to ourselves?” He begins to walk towards her, hesitantly, and it makes her heart melt just a little bit more. “Are you alright, love?”_

_“Yeah, why?” She pushes the book to the side, before getting up and reaching for him._

_“Well for one you didn’t hear me come in and you were staring at the book like you haven’t seen it before.”_

_“Oh,” Emma reaches up, cupping his face in her hand, her thumb running across the scar on his cheek. “It was nothing, just something I hadn’t read before.” She steps closer, kissing him with as much passion as deemed appropriate for their current location - trying to transfer every feeling she has for him from her soul to his, so that he might understand how much she’s fallen for him. Still falling for him. She pulls away, their foreheads still touching._

_“Not that I’m complaining, love, but was was that for?”_

_“Nothing.” She kisses him quickly once more. “I’m starving, what do you say we grab some take out from Granny’s and go sit by the water?”_

_“That sounds wonderful, darling.”_

When she comes to, she can see Hades processing and it makes her stomach churn; The sheer look of victory, of planning, painted across his repulsive face as he struts away.

-/-/-

He’s been avoiding the loft for the past few days. He can’t stand to be around her family, around the hope. It’s been almost two weeks since she disappeared and two days since they tried the incantation he found that did nothing but produce a cloud of black smoke and a shriek that sounded too close to his Emma. The thought that she’s in pain, alone, possibly dying and he has no way to get to her makes his insides burn. He’s failed her, again. Failed to protect her, failed to find her, failed at being the man she desperately wants him to be.

Killian stalks towards the bench at the park, the thought of sitting by the docks makes him want to rip out his own heart and crush it himself. He can’t escape her, not that he would ever truly want to. He just needs a moment of peace, just a minute to breathe and be able to fathom the thought he may have to go on without her. But even now, sitting on this bench by the small lake, he’s plagued with thoughts of his Swan - to a time not too long ago when she thought the only family she had was Henry. When he took a leap of faith and dared to ask the question that had been on the tip of his tongue since the moment she decided to go back to New York. _Don’t you even care_ _about them? Or anyone in this town?_ And to this day, her answer rings loudly in the air around him; _Of course I care._

Killian runs his hand through his hair, grumbling loudly as he pulls his flask from the inside pocket of his jacket. The burn of the harsh liquid down his throat is nothing compared to the burning in his chest, the one that’s been festering in his heart since he watched her disappear in a flash of dark and light. The usual comfort his rum supplies seems to have vanished, along with her, and he chucks the near empty flask into the water.

“I have to say, this is the last place I thought I’d find you.” He turns his head away at the sound of David’s voice. He knew it was only a matter of time before the prince found him.

“Go away, _mate_.”

“How much have you had to drink?” He’s not accusatory or angry, just concerned. It’s odd and nothing that he wants. He wants to yell and fight and have someone to take his anger out on.

“Not enough.” Hook lashes back, his hand running across his chest for the umpteenth time.

“So, that’s it? The spell didn’t work, so you’re just going to give up?” He can see The Prince sit down, cautiously, like he’s actually concerned for his well being - and not just because he’s Emma’s boyfriend. “After everything she’s done for you and you’ve done for her? Don’t you love her?”

“Bloody hell, Mate, what kind of question is that? Of course I love her. There’s not a damn thing I wouldn’t do for her.”

“And do you think she loves you?”

“Aye, she told me.”

“So then why are you here and not at the library? Don’t tell me you’ve given up?”

“I’m not giving up on her, Dave. I’d never...I just need a minute to breathe.”

“I get that, but your minute came and went two days ago. It’s time to get back to work.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

“No, mate, I can’t. It hurts too much to…”

“Well, you’re heartbroken, that tends to sting a little. But, you should know by now that if you love-”

“Mate.” Killian turns to David, his face a mixture of disdain and annoyance. “I swear to the gods if you finish that sentence I’m going to push you into the bloody lake.”

“I was just making a point.” He sighs, folding his hands together. “Look, I know how hard it must have been for you to get over losing your loved ones, but Emma isn’t gone, Killian. You haven’t lost her. Don’t put her in that part of your heart just yet. I know it hurts now, but you will get through this.”

“I doubt that..”

“Why?”

“Do you know what it feels like to have someone squeeze your heart?”

“Actually, yes. Is that why you keep...” he trails off, gesturing to Killian’s hand.

“Aye. I first felt it a fortnight ago. I thought it was just the pain of missing her, but it’s getting worse with every day that passes.”

“What do you mean?” Charming eyes him speculatively, emphasizing the last word.

“It’s like the damn Crocodile has my heart again and won’t stop squeezing, probing, cutting. As if some higher power doesn’t want us to rescue her. It’s worse when we’re all together, researching or planning. It’s almost as if -”

“It's her heart you’re feeling and not yours?”

“Aye,” There’s a question under the surface of his tone, one of how do you know.

“Personal experience.” he pauses, giving into whatever internal battle he had been fighting since Hook’s heart was brought up.  “They say that when you love someone as deeply as I think you love my daughter, that you can feel when the other is in pain or upset. Even from a great distance.”

“But that would mean that her and I are…”

“Look I know I was never a fan of you and your relationship with my daughter, but you’ve changed so much since Neverland. And I’m finally seeing the man that Emma sees when she looks at you.” The prince rises from his position on the bench. “I know the last thing you want is another ‘hope speech’, Killian, so I’m just going to give it to you straight: Fight for my daughter and do not stop. Use your unwavering devotion for Emma as motivation. Pull out all the Hail Marys you have and do what you have to, to help bring her home.”

Killian closes his eyes, knowing has two choices. One, he can let the prince walk away and subsequently any hope there is at finding Emma, or he can push through this pain and help to find her. “Mate, wait…” He stands, reaching out to David in more ways than one. “What if we can try summoning her again? Perhaps it was too soon the last time.. The dagger is in my safe on the Jolly Roger.”

“Anything is worth a shot.” He waits for Killian to catch up to him, patting him on the back, eyes beaming with the smallest bit of pride.  

-/-/-

Killian inhales sharply before removing his hook and inserting it in the keyhole. Behind him he hears David’s steady breathing alerting him to his presence. Its unnerving having him here, remnants from centuries before not exposed to the eyes of others - aside from himself, Milah and Emma. It was only a few weeks ago that Emma had first seen the safe, a temporary distraction from the distress caused by her parents’ former actions.  He catches a glimpse of his brother’s insignia, remembering  the look of his Swan’s face as she held it, thoughtful, humbled, her arms wrapping around him and kissing his cheek before placing the item back in its home. He spent the rest of the night telling stories of their adventures, combing his fingers through her gold spun hair. Purposefully, he had placed the dagger next to it - a subconscious effort to remind himself of her that night the next time they needed the blasted thing.

Killian turns to David, a subtle nod that draws him back into the present, and grabs the blade by it’s handle. “Bloody hell,” he whispers letting it plunge to the floor. Her name was replaced, a snakelike pattern there instead. David watches as it falls, connecting the pieces as it hits the ground.  It’s like losing her all over again, another chunk of his heart incinerated because _she’s gone. Their only hope of her survival is gone._ His knees are giving out when her father’s words resurface, suggesting that they are true love and telling him to not give up. It doesn’t feel right, as painful as this is, she’s still out there and he can feel it. “She’s alive.” His voice cracks and he bends to retrieve the dagger.

“We have to tell the others.”

“Aye.” Hook can already picture Henry’s face, already trying to find the right words that might comfort him. He mumbles his name before closing the vault and taking off  towards Regina’s.

The Mayor’s home library had become a meeting station for Operation Cygnus. When they weren’t researching, operations were ran there, whether that be performing magic or just general meetings. It had the privacy and protection they needed, and was half of Henry’s residence. Snow and Regina were cooking when they arrived, rushing the women and new Author into the small space.

“What’s so urgent? Did you find something?” Regina asks, as she closes the door behind them.

He looks to David, swallowing nervously. “Her name’s not on the dagger.”

The room is silent as Killian waits. His eyes scan the area, the contemplative looks across the family’s visage. He’s waiting for a reaction, but thirty seconds pass and the aura remains the same. Shellshocked. Voiceless. These are the matriarchs of hope, the people that, no matter how grim the circumstance, preach about its power and here they are now, cowering in fear of the unknown. He’s not sure what to do when their faces morph from speculative and concerned to grief stricken and hopeless.

Killian watches as Henry looks to his grandparents, the small child he still carries inside slowing rising. The boy’s eyes are glistening with tears and it’s not a second too soon that Killian rushes to his side. “Henry,” he keeps his voice steady, because he knows the time has come for him to put his agony aside and be their beacon of hope. “Don’t give up hope, lad. You have the heart of the truest believer. You know hope is the most powerful magic of all. You have to keep hoping that we will find her, that she is alive.” Killian pauses, looking quickly towards Mary Margaret and David. “She never gave up hope that we would save you in Neverland, or that you would find her in that tower when the author rewrote the book; so you can’t give up now. I’ve known since she left that, that cursed blade was never the key to finding her. That it could never truly belong to her.” Killian pauses, watching as Henry nods solemnly. “I believe in her, Henry. I believe in her strength, her magic, her passion to do the right thing. Just like you always have.” He gives Henry a reassuring smile, the same one he sometimes gives Emma. “Your mother has never given up on the people she loves, especially her family and I love her too much to stop believing in her now. We will find her Henry, as long as you keep hoping, we will succeed and bring her back to us.”

-/-/-

When she sees Hades again, she’s slumped over the chains holding her, exhausted and trying to sleep. “Don’t you have countless other souls to torture?” she murmurs, shielding her face away from him with her arm. Her movements feel heavy, like there’s a pile of bricks atop her chest, luring her to stay stagnant. And that’s without the singe that makes her heart feel like it doesn’t belong inside her.

“Ah, yes! But I have all of eternity for them. Besides, you’re more fun.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Oh Emma, I would expect a smart girl like you to have fit all the pieces together by now. You see, darling, no one can truly crush the Savior’s heart. Your experience with Cora should have taught you that.  I could set you afire, give you the most gruesome, agonizing, death imaginable, but I see enough of that everyday - victims of such gory deaths. It’s just not as entertaining as it used to be. I’ve found my mirth other ways. There’s a reason the Underworld is like a miserable dream. To watch a strong person crumble until their heart gives out, to watch them,” he yanks her up by her arm like a ragdoll. “bleed, figuratively of course, because they are so emotionally wrecked by their inner fears, true feelings of their supposed “loved ones”, there is no joy like it. Which is exactly how I, God of the Underworld, will be the first to crush your heart. But do you know what the best part is?” he cups her face and brings it eyelevel to his own.

“What?”

“You’re doing it to yourself.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Guess who's back, back again. . .

_**into the darkness,** _   
_**we will send our symphonies -** _   
_**a shorthand of existence,** _   
_**a slowly turning key,** _   
_**the voyager will leave us** _   
_**with this modest memory of home.** _

 

Mary Margaret enters the station with the intention of seeking out her husband. However, upon her arrival, she can’t help but divert her eyes to the pirate sitting at her daughter's desk, thumbing over a page in a book she can’t make out. She can only see the the black fluff of the back of his head and his dark leather shoes when she approaches, peeking over his shoulder to find a picture instead of words. “Are you hoping that if you stare at that long enough she’ll magically appear?”

He swivels the chair to face her and tucks the picture away in his jacket. “Something like that.” Killian ducks his head, avoiding her questioning eyes; clearly intending to keep it a secret that he carries around a portrait of Emma and himself. “I’d like to remember her like that, on the off chance I don’t find her in time, I’d like to remember her happy.”

“Killian-”

“And whenever I feel discouraged from our efforts, it is a nice motivator to keep going - that she’s god knows where waiting for us to bring her home, back to her happy ending.”

Snow sighs, closing her eyes momentarily before speaking again. “I need you to reach out to the fairies. Mother Superior might be able to help us.”

“I don’t believe I’m the person you should be asking such a request from.”

“Your hand was forced. Besides, you can talk to Tinkerbell first if you’d rather.”

“The Lady Bell and I haven’t spoken since Zelena’s time portal catastrophe.”

“Well now is as good a time as any.” Snow replies, waiting for him to protest. A small look of triumph graces her features as Hook rises from the chair, shrugging on his jacket and mumbling something along the lines of “Bloody spittin’ image she is,” under his breath. The curves of her lips turn upwards at the comparison that she herself has often seen, whether or not her daughter has too. Even during the short period of time between Emma’s arrival and breaking the first curse, she found herself picking up on similar mannerisms and broken expressions. Both at some point feeling lost and alone, their places of residence only places to sleep. She wishes she had been able to further heal the sutures of lost time, form a closer relationship than what they currently had. There are many things she wishes when it comes to Emma, but right now she only longs for her to be home.  

“You okay?” David’s voice breaks her thoughts.

“No. I don’t think I am. I. . .I keep trying to distract myself with the baby and telling myself Emma’s fine. She’s an adult. She’s the Savior. But she’s also my daughter - our daughter - and I want her home. I want to know that she’s safe, but I can’t shake this feeling that she’s not.”

Charming walks hesitantly over to her, taking her hands in his own. “I know-”

“I can’t lose her again, David. I just feel like all our efforts are failing and she’s somewhere suffering. It’s been a month and I can’t pretend I’m okay with that. We don’t have one clue as to where she is. All we’ve done is find dead end after dead end.”  

“She’s no longer battling the darkness inside her. She knows we love her, that we’re coming for her.”

“How can we be sure she knows that? How can we do that when we only know a few places out of possibly hundreds that she’s not?”

“Because we always do. And we will again.”

“We are relying on Killian’s heart to tell us she’s alive! _Assuming_ that they are true love. Every effort we have made to find her has failed. Every spell, every book we’ve read, it’s all failed. It’s like we find her just to lose her again.” Her voice cracks, a quiet sob escaping as he pulls her closer. She has barely reacted to the trauma since that first night and the escalation of bottled up emotions is finally taking its toll. Hope is only enough when it is accompanied by action - it’s a mindset - one that in this moment she has to escape.   

-/-/-

His steps are slow and timid as he walks back towards the library. Talking to the fairies was anything but pleasant, at least on his end, but Killian knows it had to be done. Their researching and scouring through pages and pages of old documents got them nowhere and the time had come to take drastic measures. The pain in his chest has only gotten stronger with every passing hour and he knows Swan is in danger, very real and imminent danger. But of what he’s not sure, because he has absolutely no clue as to her whereabouts, no trace of evidence that could point him in a general direction.

And that’s all he needs really, a better place to start - an idea to work off of. Something more than places that she isn’t and blades that no longer belong to her, more than summoning spells that come up empty and books that hold no valuable knowledge.

Killian opens the library door, stopping cold as the picture before him unfolds. Next to the board is a crippled Rumpelstiltskin conversing with the Charmings and for a few seconds he feels his heartbeat cease. _How dare he come here._ If there was one person that held all the blame for the past six months, it was the man standing before him, who was now responsible for the loss of the only women Hook has ever loved. The man who singlehandedly condemned the entire town to a fate worse than death. Twice. And that’s without bringing in masquerading as Killian himself, betraying the trust of Belle, stealing his heart to manipulate those he holds closest, and soiling the trust Hook has slowly built up since arriving to Storybrooke, into the equation. It makes a fierce anger bubble to the surface.  

The Crocodile’s index finger brushes across Emma’s picture and he is consumed with hate, lunging forward until his fist is met with the former Dark One’s flesh. He’s not registering his actions until an angry Prince is pulling him back, and a weaker, more petite hand is gripping his shoulder pleading with him to stop. The blood lazily dripping from his knuckles makes him turn, exhaling deeply and clenching his jaw. “What the bloody hell is he doing here?” he demands as he flicks his wrist to ease the pain.

“He volunteered to help us,” Belle says, frantically tending to her ex.

“He’s the one that got us into this in the first place. I don’t trust him. No one can.”

“This isn’t about trust, Dearie. I offered my services because, as it would seem, you all are getting nowhere.”  

“We have the fairies now. We don’t need you.”

“Hook, he knows more about being the Dark One than any of us. We don’t have to trust him, but we need him.” Killian sighs at Charming’s remark, closing his eyes in defeat.

-/-/-

In all the foster homes, schools, and relationships Emma’s ever been in, she’s never felt more unloved and alone than she does here, at the mercy of Hades. Where the image of the family she thought she had is constantly played, reminding her that once again she is nothing more than a pawn in someone else's game. It makes her question her faith in herself, in her ability to read people, and in whether or not her parents truly loved or even cared for her. That she’s too broken to be loved by anyone and is only in their lives because they needed saving. Doomed to watch other people live out happiness that is unattainable to her. Hades is there every day, looming over her as he taunts her existence, leaving the mirror magic to mock her even in his absence. The cuffs imprisoning her block her own powers. She feels defenseless and weak, but there is a miniscule thread of hope still lingering that someone might one day come for her.

“How are you this evening, Emma? You look exhausted.” She can’t see him this time, only a loud voice projecting from invisible speakers. He’s been doing this lately - using words and a tone that sound like he might actually care. It throws her off, but she’s used to his games by now, so she tries not to overanalyze it. That hasn’t stopped her from realizing that more pain accompanies this new attitude, an indicator of the unimaginable.

“Just get it over with already.”

“Missing those parents of yours already, I see.”

“What can I say? I’m a daddy’s girl.”

“Sorry to disappoint, Miss Swan. But I thought we’d visit some other family of yours.” His words send adrenaline coursing through her and all movement stops. The only other family she has is... _no._

She hasn’t seen her son in so long. She half expects the ten year old she first met to appear. But once again she’s caught off guard by just how much he’s grown up in their time together and she misses him with a passion. Hot tears fill her eyes at the sight of him. He’s perched up in his castle in the woods when Killian strolls in, taking a seat next to him. It feels like a knife is being plunged into her chest and she can’t catch any air - suffocating off of her own emotions. “How you holding up, lad?” His voice is the oxygen she needs. “I’m okay,” Henry mumbled, but he could tell by the look on the pirate’s face that he wasn’t getting off that easy. “It’s just. . .Every day it gets easier. I spent ten years of my life without her, thinking she didn’t love me. Everything is going back to the normal it was before I brought her here. Before monsters started constantly trying to destroy the town. I still have a mom, and Grandma and Grandpa, and baby Neal. It’s okay. I’m okay.” The picture fades on Killian’s face, eyebrow raised in question and contemplating this newfound information. She can feel her emotions spiraling around her like a dust storm and she can’t see right from wrong, one emotion from another. On one hand, she’s unwanted, unneeded by the one who has always believed in her, but there’s another less identifiable feeling, something she hasn’t felt since finding Killian alive: relief. He has family and he’s not been left alone. Henry is surrounded by people who will love and take care of him, and for that she can’t be anything but grateful. Still, it doesn’t keep her heart from breaking, from another crack forming in her already bruised organ and wishing that person was her.

-/-/-

Killian watches with seething eyes, leaning against the circulation desk and keeping his attention focused on Gold’s every move. He may be a powerless coward, but Killian’s gone up against him too many times to know that no matter the circumstance, you _never_ underestimate The Crocodile. He’s learned the hard way that there is always a catch, a game to be played, a price to pay. But this is for Emma; dealing with the devil is for her benefit - a way to bring her back - and that is the only reason he hasn’t throttled him. Because Hook knows that without the help of Gold and the Fairies, he may never see her again.

“There better not be an ulterior motive here, Dark One.” Mother Superior’s voice draws Killian away from his thoughts, turning his head to see her and Tinkerbell walk in.

“I can assure you, dearie, I really am just here to offer assistance.” There’s a pause, and a smirk Killian can’t quite understand before Gold speaks again. “And in case you’ve forgotten, fairy, I’m no longer the Dark One. I’m simply a man who once held more power than you.”

“Thank you for coming.” Mary Margaret breaks the tension, walking over to shake the Blue Fairy’s hand.

“Of course, anything to help bring back the Savior.” And with that the room gets back to work, buzzing around like bees in a hive. But Killian stays where he is, arms crossed and eyes focused. Fist ready and jaw clenching when Gold laughs at their attempt to use the locator spell.

“You really didn’t expect that to work, did you?” Rumple’s accent is thick with amusement. “It’s no wonder you haven’t found her yet. I’d be surprised if Emma isn’t already dead at the rate you people are moving.”

“She’s not,” Killian spits back, his anger towards the infernal imp sparking to life again.

“And how would you know, _Captain?_ ”

“Call it a hunch.” He pushes himself off his perch, taking a few steps in The Crocodile’s direction.

“Alright, alright. That’s enough you two.” David stops him in his tracks, preventing him from doing further, possibly more permanent, damage to the man’s face. “Instead of commenting, Gold, how about you tell us some things we don’t know? Since that is why you’re here after all.”

“Right, well for one, you’ve been going about this all wrong. You’re assuming she’s in the Enchanted Forest, or an extension of it, and she’s not. That’s why the locator spell didn’t work.” Gold muses, walking over to the board and flicking a finger at the map of their former home. “With that much power inside of her I’m surprised she isn’t dead, which is exactly why you have to look for her as if she were. If her name is no longer on The Dark One’s dagger that means she’s no longer tethered to that power, and if no one else's name is on it...well she can only be in a handful of places where that kind of magic can be floating around unclaimed. And I can assure you they are all very very dangerous. So the faster you all work, the better.”

-/-/-

Two days had passed since the image of her son was conjured up. Unlike with her parents, she only saw him two times more after that: once speaking of how she abandoned him as a baby, another of how she didn’t think of the affect her sacrifice would have on him. Watching Killian and Henry interact, knowing that he has been looking after him just because he cares for him, not out of obligation or even a request, makes her regret the fact that she didn’t tell him she loved him sooner. Since arriving, she hasn’t had many moments to miss Killian, too consumed with the visions Hades plants to think of anything but. However, as his face vanishes from the mirror, she finds herself missing the blue of his eyes, the way he can make her smile even on the darkest of days, the way it feels to be in his arms - his heartbeat steady under her ear. She hasn’t given up the hope that, although her parents and son might have forgotten her, he will search for her until he has too far bent the rules of time and space, doing everything he can to bring her home. _You came all the way back here to save my family? I came back to save you._ He felt it was his job to save her, protect her heart from villain or darkness - whatever may be lurking in the shadows - and maybe in one sense it was. He may not have physically held it, but it was entrusted to him long before she even realized. She wonders where they would be if she had listened to his plea, letting Regina take the title of Dark One. He would have told her he loved her, like he has shown her in every imaginable way. She would have woken, safe in his arms - the water lapping against the side of _The Jolly_ \- before coming up with a plan to take the darkness out of Regina, instead of being stuck inside her own version of hell without an escape. Even his presence here would be enough, the security of his touch warding off her inner demons at least part of the time. His words of reassurance echoing off the stone walls, protecting her from the damage Hades evokes.   

Emma stops suddenly, the cluster of thoughts coming to a halt when she hears faint but steady footsteps coming towards her. She swears she’s hallucinating when she hears her name, coated with emotion, as she comes to stand. The shackles around her wrists protesting with every step she takes forward. Emma blinks rapidly when she hears it again, louder, holding her breath in anticipation as her eyes blur with unshed tears. “Killian?”

“Swan!”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: You can try and prepare yourselves for the angst that lies ahead, but it will not work. Don't say I didn't warn you :) Lyrics from "Hercules" by Sara Bareilles. As always, this is both mine and the co-author bestie turned sister, Sara's.

_**I miss the days my mind would just rest quiet** _   
_**My imagination hadn't turned on me yet** _   
_**I used to let my words wax poetic** _   
_**But it melted a puddle at my feet now** _   
_**It is a calcifying crime, it's tragic** _   
_**I've turned to petrified past life baggage** _   
_**I want to disappear and just start over** _

__

It’s never just the visions that haunt her. While they are instrumental in her emotional, and in turn physical destruction, the other elements are just as detrimental. The least of these is the dogs, or three headed dog if she had her mythology correct, growling and gnashing its teeth like a distant hungry thunder. There’s a constant wailing of lost forgotten souls, a high pitched screech from those who are newly entering into the abyss. She’s learned to differentiate between the two: the cries of those who have forfeited all hope and roamed here longer and those who have recently fallen. Those souls sob more desperately, bargaining for the life that’s already gone.

The Underworld is the epitome of darkness. Her pupils have grown adjusted to the lack of lighting, even if her ears will never get used to the noises that surround her. There is an absence of temperature that heightens her senses to the pain: the scrapes encompassing her wrists, stiffness of her muscles, and burn in her heart. She longs to feel the softness of the duvet that lies on her bed, the warmth that follows when she hugs her son (or her pirate - she always feels warmth when he has his arms securely around her), the cool breeze that filters off the ocean on a sunny day, the feeling of home. But now all she can discern is a numbness to everything but pain.

Henry’s words from whatever magic Hades practices rings in her ears. _She’s selfish. After being given up as a baby, how could she think my outcome would be any better?_ As always, Killian had come to her defense, countering that he did turn out okay, possibly even happy, and has more family than most. _Yeah, I got lucky. It’s the risk involved. The fact that she was able to gamble with my life like that - she never even wanted to see me or hold me. I was just another mistake to her, a chip put on the table to be chanced away. You don’t do that to someone you love._

It was her worst nightmare. She, of all people, knew how much truth hung around his statement. (After all, she was sent off alone in a magical wardrobe to a land that no one knew.) For Henry to feel that way hurt, knowing that the time they’ve spent together now wouldn’t be enough to heal the scars of her absence in his first ten years. She’s reminded of nights curled up in her cell, crying to herself that she couldn’t be a mother, that she couldn’t be enough for him. Never has that felt more true. The visions of her parents have taught her that. All she will ever be is someone else’s game piece. Never wanted. Barely needed. Easily replaceable.

But then there is Killian. A man who transcended realms to find her, who is always right behind her shoulder - encouraging her, loving her, supporting her. He’s the kind of person she has never had before: where she comes first, where her feelings and happiness matter most, where she knows that regardless of the situation he will be there with more love than she thought any person was capable of having. It used to terrify her, how open he was with his feelings, the way he’d remind her that he loved her without ever saying those three words _. As you wish. Until I met you. There’s not a day will go by I won’t think of you. And I with you. Don’t you know, Emma? It’s you._ Even when she gave him no indication that she felt the same, Killian was still there professing his unwavering devotion in more ways than she can count. And now she craves it, longs to see the spark in his eyes when he looks at her, feel the heat that flashes across her skin when he kisses her, feel the security that comes when she looks back and sees him smiling at her like she’s the greatest wonder he’s ever come across.

And the more time she spends here, alone, the more her mind drifts to him. Her safe haven. But she knows, deep in her heart (beneath the hurt of her parents’ and Henry’s words) that he is coming for her - he will save her from this place, even if they won’t - because he promised her, I don’t intend to let you down, and never has he proven her wrong.

There’s a cry in the distance, a sound Emma doesn’t recognize - the syllables matching those of her name - and she stops breathing, stops moving. She’s still, ears perking up to hear it again, not wanting to hope but feeling nothing but. She takes a shallow breath when she hears it again, louder and stronger and familiar. Swan…

She rises and what was once a small, dangling thread morphs into a sturdy rope of hope. It’s the equivalent of Henry walking through the castle doors, and she wants to sprint towards Killian’s voice. Instead, she chooses to call back to him, emitting a faint whimper against the dryness of her throat. She tries again to no avail, doubling over as she coughs, leaning against the wall for balance. The sonorous voice sends jolts of adrenaline shooting through her. Her now trembling body fights against the cuffs holding her and she curses herself because she can’t even see him yet, but she already tastes the salt of her tears she hadn’t known were falling... _He came for her._

She smiles despite the background noises of weeping souls and angry dogs, both of which seem to fade out with every passing second, until she can hear herself breathe and…

Killian turns the corner. “Swan!”

“Killian!” She squeaks, gripping tightly and pulling upward on the chains that confine her.

She watches him breathe in and out with relief, the black leather of his jacket crinkling over his navy button up. The navy button up; its hue brings out the azure of his eyes. But as he draws nearer, small baby steps to take in her presence, she can’t help but notice the shadowy overcast of his irises. She brushes it off as an effect of the Underworld and nothing more, too consumed with the joy and pure love that fills her heart at the sight of him. He came for her. He kept his promise, and she’s certain in this moment she has never loved him more.

“Swan,” he beams with a soft exhale, but before he can take another step in her direction, the Devil’s voice crackles in the dark.

“Not so fast, Captain.”

“Swan, what is that?”

“Hades…” Emma whimpers, looking at the cave entrance then back at Killian.

“It seems my darling Emma was right about your commitment to finding her, but let’s test that, shall we? How about we add a little spice into this love affair.” There’s a venomous laughter that ricochets off the chasm walls and she can see the color drain from Killian’s face.

Emma watches as he stumbles backwards, mouth agape and eyes blown wide - like he’s seen a ghost, like he sees...

“Milah…” The name leaves his lips the way hers does and she suddenly can’t breathe. Not him too.

“It’s time to play a game,” Hades rumbles, amusement dripping off his tongue. “It’s called ‘Pick Your One True Love.’ I can give you Milah, the only thing you’ve wanted for the past three or four centuries. You can waltz right out of here hand in hook, or...you can save The Savior. You can take Emma and live happily ever after in that quaint little seaside town.” There’s a long pause as Emma takes in Killian’s face. He’s confused, eyes flicking back and forth between herself and his lost love, and it terrifies her. “But you can’t have both. So choose, Hook. Milah or Emma? Your Pirate Queen or your Savior Princess?”

He takes a deep breath and so does she, Emma keeping her eyes locked on her pirate’s face. Silently pleading with him to keep being the man she’s come to love - to not be like all the others and leave her. “Swan I-” He’s stuttering, fumbling over his words, and somewhere in the back of her mind there’s a cynical voice laughing at her - taunting her - repeating, I told you so, I told you so, over and over. But there’s a stronger part of her that’s louder, reminding her that he loves her, that he has proven to be different time and time again. “I can’t...Swan, I…” Killian looks to her, to Milah, and back to her again. She can see the struggle he’s having and a part of her sympathizes, to be in this position, but then again...for her it’s only him and it will always only be him.

“Tick tock, Captain, time's awasting.” Hades laughs wickedly and she can picture him sitting on his throne, twisting in amusement at the pain he’s causing.

“Killian, please.” It’s her last thread of hope, her last plea for him to save her - to choose her. And for a moment she thinks she’s won because Hook looks at her, really looks at her. She lets out a breath and her lips tilt up and...

“I’m so sorry, Swan. I can’t. . .I can’t lose Milah again.” And just like that her world crumbles, her heart shattering into a million tiny fragments and she can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t…

“Killian?” She wants to take a step towards him, but the irons around her wrists prevent any further movement than a jerking motion forward.

“I’m sorry Swan, truly I am.”

“Hook!” Emma calls out, her eyes blurring over. “Killian!” Her body sinks to the ground, trying to find strength in the solid of her knees, tucking her head between them as she sobs. It feels as if the walls are caving in on her, depriving her of what little oxygen she previously had. _He came for her and she wasn’t enough for him._ If she had the power to crush her own heart right now, to end the sharp, stabbing burn, she would. At the very least, the power to remove it and stash it somewhere safe seems a far better option than this.  

Hades creeps around the corner, kneeling down in front of her quivering figure. “I knew he’d be the catalyst to crush your heart. I just had to wait for the right moment.”

“What?”

“You didn’t think that was really him, did you?” He huffs, sparkling demeaningly. “Seems your time here has made you more pathetic than you were previously. You really should keep those thoughts, especially your deepest, most intimate fears, to yourself. You’ll just never learn, will you?”

“He wasn’t real? That wasn’t really him?” She chokes on the words, the realization hitting her.

“Of course not, Miss Swan. Bringing people back from the dead? Even I know better than to do that. It’s the first rule in the book. But you’ve just learned a very valuable lesson, my dear.  All love does is break you. That pirate will never find you. All you are to him is Milah’s replacement.” He smiles, cupping her face in his hand, tilting his head from side to side, examining her. “It’s killing you quicker than I thought. But, I think I’m gonna hold onto my toy just a little bit longer.”

-/-/-

Killian runs his hand over his chest, grimacing as the pain surges through his veins. It makes him worry for Emma’s safety, makes him angry that he’s not there to protect her, makes him want to work faster.

“You okay?” Henry inquires from behind a book, eyes darting up.

“I’m fine, lad.” He lies. Henry doesn’t need to be worrying about him - he’s still a kid and should stay that way as long as possible. That’s what Swan would want. The truth, that Killian is the furthest thing from fine, that he feels like he is slowly dying, will only add to the boy’s growing list of things to fret over.

Killian inspects the room, scanning the busy faces of family and friends alike, trying to discern if anyone noticed him. He’s grateful to find that they didn’t, too preoccupied with searching for a way to find Emma. It’s silent, minus the steady breathing of the Charmings, Belle, Tink, and Blue somewhere towards the back. Everyone had been split up in pairs and assigned a specific thing to research: the fairies used their own spell books to find portals to other realms, the Charmings searched for anything to do with past Dark Ones, Belle and the Crocodile were on the square contraption she called a computer, and Henry and himself sought out to narrow down the possible realms where she could be. They were all engrossed in their work. All except Killian, who could hardly focus on anything but the growing agitation of his heart.

Killian grunts, pressing his knuckles deep into his chest bone, avoiding Henry’s speculative eyes. And for once it works, the pain stops, there’s nothing but the normal beat of his heart, and it’s concerning. The burning sensation has been constant since she vanished, his only indication that Swan is alive. However, it comes back as quickly as it went, this time a crippling hunger that leaves him breathless. It feels like a billion tiny shards of glass are combusting inside his heart as he gasps for air that is no longer there, doubling over onto the wooden table.

“Hook! Talk to me. Hook, what’s wrong?” Killian hears David’s voice suddenly next to him, the Prince’s hand over his left shoulder as he tries to pull him up.

“E-” He’s fairly certain his heart is on fire. “Em - Emma.” He wheezes, coughing as another wave of torment rushes through his bloodstream.

“What?” Her father’s voice is filled with nothing but trepidation, his eyes drifting between Killian’s convulsing form and his equally as panicked wife.

**  
**“It’s Emma. Emma, we - we have to get to Emma.” The words are lodged in the back of his throat, coming out in cracked syllables and he knows what this is. This feeling that’s consumed him - he’s felt it before when the Crocodile had a hold of what has long belonged to Emma - the agony that follows when someone squeezes your heart. Killian’s eyes grow wide as the realization hits him: someone is crushing The Savior’s heart.


	7. Chapter 7

_**I couldn’t help but ask** _   
_**For you to say it all again.** _   
_**I tried to write it down** _   
_**But I could never find a pen.** _   
_**I’d give anything to hear** _   
_**You say it one more time,** _   
_**That the universe was made** _   
_**Just to be seen by my eyes.** _

 

There’s another wave of pain that surges through him. It feels like his soul is being sliced in two, but it's gone just as quickly as it came, leaving nothing but a faint buzzing in its wake. Killian slumps back against the wooden chair, chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath.

“Killian?” A woman's voice calls out to him, making him look up from the dark wood of the desk - the corners of his eyes still blurred. “What do you mean ‘It’s Emma’?”

“I - I felt her heart. I felt someone crushing her heart.” His voice is strained, words falling from his mouth like tears from his eyes.

“How can someone crush her heart? I thought that wasn’t possible?”

“Well I felt it, so it bloody well is possible.” Anger rises from his gut, not at The Princess but at himself - at the situation they’re in.

There are a few moments of silence, all unsure of how to proceed next. Eyes darting between them for unspoken miracles.

“I hate to be the one to ask this,” the former Dark One speaks up, clearing his throat in the process. “But can you still feel her? Or is she dead?”

“I. . .” He always brushed it off as a symptom of his feelings for her, that magnetic pull she holds on him nothing more than an aftereffect of the great love he had - has - for her. It’s the same feeling he encountered when she cradled his heart in her hands, looking at him with wide eyes and a timid smile. It felt safe; it felt like coming home. And it stayed that way, even after she put the organ back where it belonged, that all consuming grasp that encased his beating heart. The rhythm sending out a tune of her name, a constant beat of Em-ma, Em-ma, Em-ma. It only got stronger when she vanished, after she placed his hand on her chest, whispered the words I love you into the howling wind. Though the feeling changed, from something light and hopeful to something heavy and despairing. And as his family (and The Crocodile) stare at him, he’s disillusioned to find that he can’t feel it, can’t feel anything but his own heart. No beating of her name, no undissolving warmth flooding his bloodstream. “I don’t know.”

“Then, I believe I know where she is.” The room's eyes move to Gold, Killian’s eyebrow raised in question. “There’s only one way to crush her heart and only a small handful of beings able to do so. You’d have to be a god.”

“What, like. . .like Hercules?” Henry asks with a hint of disbelief.

“The guy from that moving picture? The one with the horse with wings?”

“Yeah!”

“Now see here, if I’ve learned anything from movie nights with you and your mother, it’s never to trust what this realm thinks of you.”

“Okay, okay, let’s get back to the task at hand.” David interjects.

“Mate, you’d be infuriated too if you knew what this realm thinks of you, constantly singing and prancing around in tights.”

“Alright, that’s enough you two.” Snow places her hands between them, pushing them away from each other. “What were you saying, Gold?”

“To crush her heart, you would have to be a god.”

“So those are real, too?” Henry questions.

“I met Poseidon, God of the sea. So, presumably the others are too. It’s not that far fetched, really. Where is she, Crocodile?”

“My guess is as good as yours, dearie. But given the. . .odd circumstances of her disappearance, I’d wager that The Underworld is not too far off.”   

“But isn’t that where…” The lad’s voice trails off, looking to his grandparents for comfort.

“Yes and since the Captain here just felt her heart being crushed…”

“Don’t you dare say it!” Killian jumps forward, grabbing Gold by the collar. “Don’t you dare put that out there. She isn’t dead.”

“Are you sure?” He lashes back, that sadistic smirk rising on the imp’s face. Killian takes a deep breath, jaw clenching as he pushes the old man back into a chair. He doesn’t think twice before turning towards the library doors - rushing out to be anywhere but here. The last thing he hears before the doors slam shut is Mary Margaret’s voice saying to let him go.

-/-/-

Killian lets out a ragged breath as he settles himself on the railing of the helm, staring up at the stars that litter the sky above. With another shallow breath, he recalls a night, weeks back, when he sat in this very spot with Emma - telling her about the stars and the ways to use them as your guide - to help ease her mind after her parents’ secret was revealed. Telling her stories of his days out at sea, how each realm has their own set of constellations - though some shine so bright that they pass through the barriers and can be seen in multiple worlds. Like The Cygnus, Killian had said with a scratch behind his ear, That one can be seen anywhere - even Neverland. He can still see the smile that graced her features, the one where she bites her lip and ducks her head. Where her cheeks get a shade redder than their usual tint of soft pink.

He runs his hand across his chest, lingering over his Swan’s tattoo as his eyes glisten with tears. Killian ducks his head down, listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the hull of The Jolly Roger. The sea used to be his calm, but over the years it’s shifted to something else. Someone else.

“Emma.” He murmurs her name, raising his chin and opening his eyes to look back at the inky black sky. Killian takes another deep breath, as more tears fall against his cheek. “I’m so sorry, Emma. Gods, I -” He stumbles on his words, wiping his hand furiously across his face. “You’re out there suffering and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. I promised you, I promised I’d protect your heart and the minute you need me to...I may never get the chance to tell you this in person, but...I love you, Emma. I’ve always loved you, since the day you held that damn dagger to my throat and tied me to a bloody tree for the ogres to find.” He chokes out a laugh at the memory - his brilliant, enraged lass with the sun reflecting off her hair and fire in her eyes. Looking every bit the siren he knew she was. “Do you remember that night after you gave me my heart back? When we sat in my quarters at the Inn and I told you everything that happened between me and The Crocodile? And you chucked that bloody book to the wall, rather close to my face? I don’t think I’d ever seen you so furious with me. Though I deserved it, lying to you like I did. Keeping secrets from you. At least I thought that’s why you were angry, but it wasn’t; you said you understood that part. You were more upset about the fact that I thought I needed both hands to be with you...I almost told you that night - how much I love you, watching you pace across the room, spitting out curses that would have my crew turning red. You’re bloody magnificent, love, always have been.” It shouldn’t hurt to remember her. Then again, he shouldn’t have to remember her at all. She should be here, by his side - with her family - not dwindling away in some godforsaken land, possibly losing faith in them. (In herself.) “I only wish there was a way for me to tell you - to give you a sign that we’re coming, that we haven’t given up hope. I wish you knew, Swan, how hard we’re all working, how much we need you, how much we love you - how much I love you.” He shakes his head, tries to settle himself. “I’m sorry, Emma. I’m so sorry.”

-/-/-

“Hello Princess,” Hades struts in, with calculated, forceful, steps. Emma ignores him, keeping her tear-stained face against the cool of the rocks, waiting for her body to cave in on her. At least then she’ll have some finalization, muscles that have withered down to nothing no longer heavy against her bone. And her heart...“Was it worth it? Falling in love, trusting in people?” His voice reverberating off the walls, pouring itself into her soul. She didn’t know. She didn’t care. Lifetimes ago, she was a Savior, a mother, a daughter, a victim of love; but now she’s not even sure if she’d recognize her own name. “Too many titles, darling?” She should have been stronger, and she hates herself for that. “I believe it’s time, Swan.” Hades grabs her, forcing her head forward to a mirror, one hand a greedy, rigid grip at the top of her head, the other a forceful palm against the base of her neck, so that her only line of defense is to shut her eyes, but part of her fears that they may never reopen if she does.

She sees Mary Margaret, David, and Henry flash across the glass as Hades whispers in her ear. “Look at them, the perfect family. One that you were never truly a part of. Your parents, if you can even call them that - they didn’t raise you! They gave you up. And Henry, well he’s lived most of his life without you. You’re simply the woman that gave birth to him. Regina did all the heavy lifting. You’re just a little lost girl, who doesn’t matter and never will. Killian can just go back to his pirating ways, sleep his way out of missing you. It worked for you with Henry’s father, right?”

She opens her mouth to speak, but even defending herself now seems worthless. Silence is an easier rebellion and talking hurts anyway. So she relaxes into his hold until he departs, falling limp on the ground.

-/-/-

Any restful nights were few and far between. The fragrance on Emma’s pillow no longer smelled of her, so Killian clung to her jackets when he was sure the house was asleep. He dreamt of her often, beautiful dreams where she wakes warm in his arms echoing the last words he heard her whisper against the screeching sky. And here, finally, he can say it back. But there’s also terrible dreams, where she’s whisked away, her heart suddenly in the hands of an evil sorcerer, who squeezes it until it turns to dust, her body falling numb on the ground, a last cry of I trusted you. I trusted you to protect me. It’s easier to not sleep. Sometimes he settles for pacing around the small bedroom, others he quietly escapes outside where the air is not as stuffy and the noise barrier is not a concern.

His body is jolted awake from the image of Emma locked away in a cell, her heart crumbling slowly until the last morsel sends her collapsing to the ground. Immediately, his hand runs across his heart, once, twice, five times. He can’t feel her. The fear is too much, so he throws the blankets off and begins pacing back and forth.

The Underworld is the stuff of myths and legends, Misthaven’s version of a fairytale. And while it made sense for her to be there, he couldn’t accept that. She would have to be dead, or bloody close to it. He can hear himself murmuring quiet whispers, choked sobs of her name and a plea to please be okay. He’s surrounded by her belongings, little reminders that she’s not here. She’s not even with him and she’s taking his oxygen away, clouding his vision because she’s all he can think about.

He remembers the sheets, light and airy as they hovered over her bare skin, her hair a wreck as she captured his lips with hers, smiling into his mouth. The feel of her body arched above his own, eyes growing darker, fidgeting with his necklace, their bodies pressing into each other until they were one.

He remembers family movie nights, the way she’d settle herself on the floor with her son, a bowl of popcorn between the two, sitting back against the couch between his legs. The way his hand would run through her hair, her contented sigh as she leans her head against his knee. That sparkle in her eyes when she’d laugh - turning her head to look back at him and make sure he was laughing too (and if he wasn’t, an explanation to the joke already on the tip of her tongue).

What he can’t remember is what it felt like to have her head nuzzled into his shoulder, the smell of her shampoo, the warmth of her lips against his neck. The calmness and comfort that overtakes him when he’s in her presence. She’s his own version of a siren, charming him to her until she’s a part of him. Turning his world upside down and right side up, helping him - forcing him - to change himself. Be a better version of the man he was, to be someone worthy enough to cradle her in his arms.

And to fathom the thought that she could be dead, that his Swan is no longer a part of this world, more or less kills him. He needs her. She is his center, his sun - the bloody moon and the stars, his whole damn universe. A part of him envies the man he used to be, the one that depended on no one but himself. The man who never knew light, who never knew Emma Swan - that miraculous being of sunlight who filled all the cracks of his battered heart with the most pure love to ever exist.

Killian takes a deep breath, runs his hand roughly through his already tousled hair, as he takes another lap around the small room. It’s suffocating, he feels trapped, like the walls are caving in on him and he can’t bear to stay here a minute longer.

He moves about the room as quickly and quietly as he can, pulling on his jacket and grabbing his shoes - practically tiptoeing down the metal stairs. He’s about to make contact with the door when a woman’s voice stops him.

“Leaving the house isn’t going to make you feel better, you know,” Mary Margaret calls from the couch, a cup of tea nestled between her hands.

“I was uh -”

“I know. I could hear you pacing, which you usually do before making a trip to the docks, or wherever it is you go after.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I understand the need to escape.” The brunette moves to the side of the sofa, patting the now open spot next to her. “Talk to me, Hook.”

“I’m just bloody frustrated is all.” He shakes his head in defeat, tossing his shoes to the floor before joining her.

“We all are.”

“It shouldn’t be this hard.” Though he should have known, loving Emma would be anything but easy. The months, years, it look to finally win her heart proof of that. His bloody stubborn lass. “Why does she make everything so damn difficult?”

“You’re angry?”

“I’m bloody irate.” Killian shoots up from the couch, and it’s like a dam is broken. All the pent-up anger, frustration, sadness, and grief rising like a summer tide. Rolling in and crashing against the shore with painful accuracy.

“At Emma?”

“No, yes, no...I don’t know.” He drops his head in his hand, tongue running across his bottom lip. “Everything, I’m angry at everything and I hate myself for it. Especially the part of me that’s angry at her because I shouldn’t be. I shouldn’t be mad at Emma for being the person I fell in love with but I am. I lost her again and this time I don’t know if I’ll ever get her back. She went to the one place I can’t follow.”

“You don’t know that, Killian. There is always a way.”

“Not if she’s already gone.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t feel her heart. It’s almost like trying to sail a ship with wind but no sails. I’ve lost our connection.” He slumps back against the cushions, exhaustion setting into his bones - the emotional turmoil finally taking its toll.

“No you haven’t, Killian.” Snow runs her hand over his shoulder, an action Emma has done on numerous occasions and it hurts. Burns another hole through his already broken heart.

“Yes I have! She’s dying! Her heart is withering away. It’s like he crushed a part of it and left the rest. I am supposed to protect her heart; it’s my job as her…” He stops because voicing it aloud only solidifies his insufficiency. “But I’m failing and because of that she’s dying. What if I can’t get to her in time and she dies before I can save her? Or what if I make it there but it’s too late and I have to watch her die?”

“Killian,” She turns his face to look at her, with the gentle touch only a mother would have - a softness and grace he has long forgotten. “I have those fears too. I’m her mother, but I’ve lost her to curses and darkness three times. And I wonder if anything I ever do will be enough, or if I’m just growing closer to her so that somehow it might hurt more when I lose her again.” She sighs and it makes him feel a little less detached from the rest of the world. “You got her to open up her heart. And she loves you so much. I see it every time she looks at you, when she talks about you. You’ve brought her happiness. And you’ve always loved her. I know you and I know that you will stop at nothing to save her. These fears are legitimate, yes. And they aren’t just going to disappear. But if there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that dwelling on them is counterproductive. Even when it seems too late, know that it’s never too late for true love. If David can wake me from a sleeping curse after I ate a poisoned apple, then you can save Emma from The Underworld.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry the update took us so long! Thank you all so much for your comments and kudos and just constant support. We love you all!

_**Oh, you can hear me cry** _  
_**See my dreams all die** _  
_**From where you're standing** _  
_**On your own.** _  
_**It's so quiet here** _  
_**And I feel so cold** _  
_**This house no longer** _  
_**Feels like home.** _

 

The pain in her chest is eternal. It’s a throbbing, sharp, persistent ache that worsens whenever she thinks.  Her thoughts are a vicious cycle of self-loathing, occasionally accompanied by memories of a short-lived happier time; a time that meant Monday night ice cream with Henry, holding her baby brother, movie nights at the loft, celebrations at Granny’s. A time spent breaking down walls to let love, to let Killian Jones, in.

Hades visits are more frequent, hauntings that curl into her where love used to.  He creeps in from behind a corner with sadistic smirks and slow turns of his head as he studies her. A week after another averted rescue by an all too real looking Hook, the mirror reverted back to a loop of her parents and Henry, all with new excuses for why they no longer care for her, or never did. We didn’t raise her, she’s not our daughter. She brought magic to Storybrooke and ruined everything. She’s the savior, she is perfectly capable of saving herself. I can’t drop everything to go look for her. I have all the family I need. But Killian is still nowhere to be found. Not wanting to see him is a new sensation, yet she can’t help but be grateful that he isn’t a constant adding salt to her wound. Slipping out of existence seems a better alternative than watching him give her up again.  

“Honestly,” Hades rolls his eyes with an exasperated sigh. “The amount of tears that have fallen from your eyes this past week is enough to fill all five of my rivers.” He moves, coming from behind her to lean against the wall.  His arms cross and his lips pull, thin slivers that crack his cheek and though it’s just a smile, Emma shivers when their eyes meet, dread pooling in her stomach and making her limbs feel weak.  He watches her body shake and her fingers curl around her arms to hide the tremors, and his eyes light up, his face relaxing into a blissed glow at her discomfort.

“You’ve never had a family have you?”

“Darling, you really know nothing of mythology do you? I have quite a _large_ family. If anything, I think you’re the one without a family. Just a bunch of people who came together to soothe the heart of a lost girl. Take your time in Neverland for example, your mother was willing to leave you behind just to be with her husband. And never once did she ask what you wanted. Or how about when Neal let you take the fall for his crime, or when Henry chose to help Regina get her happy ending with that stupid author instead of you. Or when your precious pirate left you in Rumplestiltskin's cell to rot after you betrayed him. Or-”

“Stop it!” Emma wishes her voice had come out strong, with the power of the Savior, but instead it’s a wail, a sound that bursts from deep inside her chest, where she could never pretend like she didn’t still feel like the unwanted orphan. Her face scrunched in pain and her vision blurred from more than just her captors words.

“Why should I? I’m having a grand ole time watching you slowing crumble to pieces. It’s not as if I’m lying; everything I just said was the truth. Your mother did want to leave you, Neal did send you to jail. Henry has always loved Regina more. And Hook, well he may have drifted off the path of vengeance, but who’s to say everything he’s ever said to you wasn’t a lie? Who’s to say he hasn’t been playing you. He is a pirate after all; they are masters of deception, playing games and tricks on people's hearts to get their treasure. Like what he did to Ursula or Ariel, using them and their trust until he didn’t need them anymore.”

“He loves me.”  Her words might have been a defense, if they weren’t murmured so weakly, if they weren’t so obviously a mantra she used to try to convince herself.

“Hm, you’ve said that about a few men before and look what happened. They all left you and Hook will too. Just give it time and you’ll see that you’re nothing more than a piece of gold he’s been twisting around his fingers until the day something more valuable comes along.”

She shuts her eyes tight, trying to wish it away, to reopen them and find herself back in Storybrooke and this all a terrible nightmare. But instead they open startlingly to a loud clash, and growling and gnashing of Cerberus’s teeth, Hades rushing in the direction of the noise.

 

She can hear him before she sees him, sprinting out from behind the rocks with a desperate, almost angry, plea of her name. And though she rises to meet his gaze, she can’t push back the feeling that this isn’t right. It’s unfolded like this before, only to leave her reeling on the floor in the most unimaginable pain she has ever felt. His eyes are a charcoal grey, shoulders hunched over as he exhales a sigh of relief at her presence.  

“Are you alright?” His voice barely breaks a whisper and she nods, daring him to step forward.  “Swan, what’s wrong?” he asks, sensing her spekitancy and fear.  

“You’re-” Her reply is muffled by Hades cackling, halting any thoughts she had of questioning whether this Killian is truly her Killian. And she can’t say she isn’t, at least, a bit grateful for the interruption. It feels like a betrayal to him, to think he’d ever let her down when he promised he wouldn’t. But then again, she’s seen this play out a few times now and each time she is left alone, in the dark, with a broken heart.

“Hello, Captain, fancy seeing you here.” Hades roars from above.

“Please don’t…” Emma shuts her eyes; pleading with the demon is pointless but she can’t go through this again. To have all Hades words be true, to know she was never, and will never be enough for a man who loves with his whole heart and soul.

“Please don’t what, Emma?” The god laughs exuberantly. “Don’t you want to play the game? Maybe he’ll pick you this time? Don’t be a spoil sport, it isn’t very nice.”

“Swan, who's that voice? What’s going on?”

“What if I could give you Milah, in exchange for leaving Emma here? You have to choose, but you only get one. It’s rather simple; the women you’ve spent over three centuries trying to avenge, or the lost girl you’ve known for barely three years.”

“You can give me Milah?” He calls out, lifting his head up.

“If that’s what you want.” She can hear the blithe in Hades’ voice, can practically see the glee dripping from his pores as he snaps his fingers, from wherever he’s watching, and makes her love’s past love appear in front of her. Blocking her way to him in more ways than one.

Emma watches the pirate carefully; noting every glance, every twitch of his jaw, every breath he takes. Holding her own with every excruciating moment until his answer sifts through the air. “It is.”

“Killian?”

“She’s all I’ve ever wanted, Swan. She’s been my purpose of living, to bring her justice from the hands of that coward. I never thought I’d see her again.”

“But you said...”

“Swan, there’s a reason I never told you I loved you. For a while you helped me forget about Milah, but now that I can have her back...This is a far better happy ending than I could ever have with you.” It’s like he’s personally ripping her heart in two - tearing apart the thing he’d promised to protect time and time again.  

Emma watches him stalk out of the cave, his hand wrapped tightly around Milah’s as he disappears into to the darkness. She sinks down into the dirt, her lip trembling as the pain in her chest worsens. She doesn’t know why she bothers hoping, wishing for him to save her - to come running in with his sword drawn and his voice jubilant as he teases her about dashing rescues.

There’s a whisper in the depths of her heart, reminding her that this Killian wasn’t real, just as the others weren’t. But it’s overshadowed by a stronger voice - a loud cry that reminds her she isn’t loved. Not by her parents, or Henry, or the man she thought was her soul mate. Reminding her that she is alone (just as she always has been) and no one is saving her from this place.

Emma lays her head down, curling her legs to her chest as she shuts her eyes and lets the agony wash over her. She knows it won’t be long until she’s dead, until Hades has won and her heart mingles with the sand at her side.

-/-/-

The massive piles of books by his feet have yet again proven useless. Even with the knowledge that Emma is in the Underworld, the search for a way to get her has been as troublesome as the search to find her. Killian flips the page of the novel in his lap, leaning back in his chair as he rolls his neck in discomfort. It’s another section of worthless words, just as every one before that and he can’t find it in himself to not hurl the blasted thing across the room - watching as Mary Margaret picks it up with a sympathetic smile. He runs his hand down his face in agitation, swallowing back tears as he feels another piece of Emma’s heart break. It’s been a week since he first felt her heart being crushed and every time after has hurt more than the last.

A part of him wants to give up, to stop believing in happy endings and hope. That a villain, whether he’s become a hero or not, deserves to have happiness and love - a chance at redemption. That perhaps his destiny is not Emma but rather to live with the pain of knowing true love only to lose it in the end.

Killian closes his eyes, his chest aching and pain radiating out of his lungs before he remembers to let go of the breath he’s holding. His gaze wanders around the crowded library, watching as her family rummages through mountains of spell books and ledgers. His eyes meet Snow’s and she gives him a reassuring nod that signals it’s okay, breathe. He smiles back as his fingers slip into his pocket and worry at the edges of the photo he keeps in there. Though he has it memorized, he pulls it out and runs his thumb over Emma’s grinning face, light hair pooling around her shoulders like a halo, as radiant as a star in the dimly lit diner. She stares at him and he stares back, so engrossed in the other with not a care in the world, much like they were the last time they found themselves at the infamous establishment.

_She grabs his hand as the door closes, smiling up at him from under her lashes. They walk towards Granny’s in silence, soaking up each other’s presence, Killian placing a kiss to her knuckles or her head every few steps. “So I was thinking, I know sailing has kind of become a thing between you and Henry, and I love that, but I thought maybe - you know, now that you have your ship back, you and I could go? Just the two of us?”_

_“I’d love that, Swan. Especially if we’re not trying to outrun a bloody dragon.”_

_She laughs, wrapping her free hand around his arm. “You never know, it could happen. Especially with Maleficent and Lily around.”_

_“I suppose you’re right, love.” Killian squeezes her hand, a reassuring gesture for the both of them. He stops when they enter the courtyard, tugging her just a bit closer, tilting his head with a lopsided smirk. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” He breathes the words from parted lips._

_“Killian,” she ducks her head away, heat rising and staining her cheeks red._

_"I'm serious, love. I don't tell you that enough."_

_"Well I think that's a good thing, wouldn't want me to have an ego the size of Montana." Emma giggles as they sit at their table under the twinkling lights, quickly grabbing his hook as he settles beside her. It makes him wonder how he ever thought she’d be displeased with his hook, that he would need both hands to have her touch him this way. He knows now how foolish he was to ever think she’d look at him differently when they finally gave in to the passion that was bubbling between them.  “Are you okay?”_

_“Aye, love.” Killian takes a deep breath, turning in his chair and pulling her legs to rest between his own. He runs his hand down her thigh, thumb rubbing soothing circles into the muscles.  It’s in moments like these, where it feels as though there is no one else in the world but the two of them, that he is grateful for the three centuries that he survived. His entire body feels flooded with gratitude that no matter the circumstance, no matter the wars that have waged, he always finds his way back to her - and she to him. Not long ago, she had confessed that she couldn’t lose him: the same sentiment coursed through him every time he looked at her. Though he has loved before, it had never felt the way it does to love Emma: so selflessly and completely, so overwhelmingly true. With every ounce of his soul he loves her and he knows, with a certainty that shakes him to his core, he will love her until the day he dies.  He wonders briefly if his ability to survive is because he needed to live long enough to find her. That his destiny was not to kill the dark one, but rather Emma - to love Emma._

_“Hey, where’d you go? You looked far away.”_

_“I wasn’t far, in fact, I was right here with you.” His thumb brushes across her jawline, tilting her head up eye level to his own.  “You know how much I care for you, aye?”_

_“I do.”_

_“That you’re not just my happy ending, you’re so much more than that?”_

_“I do.” she smiles, articulating the “o”.  He touches his forehead to hers, biting back a grin as she wraps her arm around his neck. Her lips glide over his own and he melts into her, hand brushing across her cheek as he tilts his head, inhaling her with closed eyes and a muffled sigh. When Emma pulls away, her eyes flutter open and her lips are parted with a breathtaking grin and every bit of his soul that hadn’t already wrapped itself around hers, flung at her. Her fingers slide down from his hair to anchor themselves on his shoulder blades. “Come on, we should go inside before they come looking for us.”_

_He breathes in agreement, rising to pull her chair back and walk arm in arm back to the diner._

Killian draws the next book from the stack, thumb grazing the spine, coming back to himself and flipping through the dust covered pages. He skims through the entries, each one dated and headlined in cursive lettering. It’s owner was of a more villainous nature than their job let on, so he continued reading. A silent prayer that  whoever this woman was, she had secret ties to a realm he had been lucky enough not to encounter. And hidden on what had to be the hundredth something page, in ink smudged handwriting, he saw it.

_My ventures to the Underworld proved unsuccessful. Using my wand, I was able to travel through a portal, passing the three-headed beast that guards the entrance. Hades found me immediately, but I was unable to procure more dark magic without making a deal. He wished for the Dark One’s dagger, which I could not obtain. I will try once more after my trip to Camelot. . ._

“I found something,” the words burst from between his lips in a whisper, elated disbelief curling inside his chest.  He exhales loudly, fingers grazing the edges of the paper before the book slips from between his hands and hits the floor with a loud sound.  “Emma.”

“Everything okay, Hook?” Charming inquires, catching the attention of the others.

He looks past the prince to Snow and when he sees her mother’s wide eyes, a laugh punches its way out of his lungs and he grins.  “I think I’ve a way to get to Emma.”

“What? Really?” Henry asks, excitedly following the crowd that is gathering around the pirate’s table.  

“I told you you could do it!” Snow squeezes his shoulder, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“We need to find Mother Superior. This journal - it belonged to a fairy that traveled to the Underworld.”

Within a few minutes, Blue and Tinkerbell were running through the library doors with wands in hand. The blonde fairy rushes over to Killian, the corners of her lips turning up. “I knew you could do it.” His eyes shine with pride at her words,

“Thank you, milady.”

Blue joins them, muted ecstaticism over the discovery of the Dark Fairy’s journal, taking a moment to ponder the pages before turning to the anxiously awaiting family. She warns them of the possible dangers, suggesting that they bring the dagger as a precaution.

The head fairy cautiously hands Regina the wand, keeping a firm grasp on one end as the queen holds the other. Mother Superior slowly pries her fingers off, keeping a speculative eye as she speaks. “You’ll have to open the portal. This wand only works with dark magic, but don’t let the power tempt you.”

Regina rolls her eyes, “I’ll try my best.” Killian tries to hide his smirk, ducking his head down before turning his attention back to the Charmings.

David directs the group, telling each to grab their respective weapons and meet back as soon as possible. When they return, Killian entrusts the dagger to the Prince, tucking his cutlass against his side. Snow’s quiver strapped against her back and her husband has his sword drawn.  

“Where’s Henry?” Mary Margaret hands her son to Belle, having asked the librarian to watch over the kids.

“Okay I’m ready to go!” Henry exclaims as he yanks the door open, emerging with a smaller replica of his grandfather’s sword.

“Go where?” The lad’s mother asks.

“I’m going to the Underworld with you.” He beams, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Killian’s taken aback by the rapid response, all in firm, parental unison, including himself.  “No!”

“But I wanna help save Mom.” The boy drops his sword to his side. Killian scans the faces of his family, stepping forward when Regina gives him the okay with a subtle nod of her head.

“You already have, lad. You made sure we didn’t lose hope in ourselves. You’ve researched harder than any of us. Besides, your mother would leave us all there if we let you come.” Hook searches the Henry’s eyes until his resistance falls away and he steps back in agreement.

“We’ll be back soon,” Regina promises, walking forward to embrace her son, placing a quick kiss on his head  and asking if the others are ready.

“As ready as we’ll ever be.” David exhales, watching as a black portal expands before them.

They fall through the portal, the air being sucked from their lungs and pressing against them from all sides.  When they land, it’s against hard concrete and at first, Killian only registers the loud thud of their bodies and the clatter of their weapons.  But when he pushes himself up, fingers tightening around the hilt of his weapon, the noise is drowned out by a louder, more imminent wailing. It’s a piercing sound that feels physical, his heart beating rapidly and his body chilled, his arms feeling heavy from the ice he is sure runs through them.  It’s pure terror, he thinks, that is surrounding and filling them.  He tries to regain control of his senses as they all pick themselves up from the ground, searching for each other in the eerie darkness that now surrounds them. His eyes find David’s immediately, looking at each other with concern as a loud cry echoes from the endless space in front of them.

After a moment, one cry becomes louder than the others; hits against him with a familiarity that makes dread pool in his throat. He recognizes the scream, tearing his heart in two as it ricochets against the sound waves: it’s Emma.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: We pulled some things from Greek mythology and inserted it into this chapter, such as the Fields of Mourning and the Hydra. This is one of my favorite chapters and a moment we've been waiting to write for so long. So I hope you like it! Thank you for sticking with us this long. We'd love to know what you think of the story thus far and where it's going. For anyone wondering, we wrote this to my Steve Jablonsky Pandora station - and our favorite songs on there are Hunted and Tessa. Enjoy :)

 

_**Once upon a time** _   
_**I was falling in love** _   
_**But now I'm only falling apart** _   
_**There's nothing I can do** _   
_**A total eclipse of the heart** _   
_**Once upon a time there was light in my life** _   
_**But now there's only love in the dark** _   
_**Nothing I can say** _   
_**A total eclipse of the heart** _

Though he has lived in darkness, and with darkness, for many years, it was nothing compared to what surrounds him now.  This inky black abyss that seems to suck the hope from the air and cause you to think only of your innermost fears.

 _The Underworld feeds of your deepest and darkest thoughts. Don’t let it deter you._ Mother Superior’s voice rings in Killian’s ear - drowning out the cries of lost souls for an all too brief second. _Remember why you’re there and focus on that. Focus on her._ The fairy’s words soft, only for himself to hear, her way of reassuring him of this hero’s journey. His most important one yet.

“So now what?” The queen’s voice breaks his train of thought, eyes trying desperately to find her in the dim lighting. “Do we just wander around in the dark like a bunch of idiots?”

“No, we split up. We’ll cover more ground that way.” Killian turns his head quickly towards David, about to protest the prince’s plan when Regina beats him to it.

“And what happens if we get lost? It’s not like we get cell service down here. I’m fairly certain that’s an extra charge that I forgot to add to my bill for this month.”

The Prince looks to his wife for validation, only to be met with the opposite. “She’s right, David. We have to stay together.”

“But we could get to Emma quicker!” He shifts his weight, gesturing with his hands. “Hook can take the entrance that leads behind the rocks, I’ll go east, Regina -”

“I want to get to her as quick as possible too. But all splitting up is going to do is leave one of us stranded in this hellhole. I promised Henry we’d come back with five people and I won’t let him down again.”

Killian’s eyes flicker between the group as the bickering continues, muffling out the other noises that echo around them. He balls his hand into a fist, submerging his worry in a building anger. Her cry is fainter with each passing second but it is hers. It lingers in his ears and lodges itself in his heart, making the ache to find her swell, curling his toes as he stays stagnant. He scans the area, searching for the cry that the others seem oblivious to. And maybe it’s a hallucination, but he swears he can hear her mumble his name somewhere far in the distance. It’s the softest he’s ever heard her sound, his name less like a cry and more like a prayer, and bile rises in his throat while anger shoots through his veins.

“Enough!” Killian shouts, shocking the group into silence. “If we keep this up, she’ll be dead by the time _any of us_ get to her. We’re staying together. Those cries that you hear, those souls _suffering_ \-- Emma is one of them. I’m done wasting time. Let’s go.” He meets David’s eyes and they both nod, the group turning to step out of their circle, but stopping in their tracks as they’re met with their foe.

“Well if it isn’t the rescue committee. I must say, I expected you a lot sooner than this. It’s quite pathetic really. All the magic and cheat sheets you have in that quaint little town of yours and you couldn’t find just one lost, forgotten girl.”

Killian is overtaken with blind rage, jaw clenching, as he lunges forward. Ready to kill the monster that stands in his way of saving Emma. David’s arm shoots out, preventing him from his attack. Though he knows Charming has saved him from making a terrible decision, he feels no gratitude.  His whole body aches with a thick, seething fury towards the supposed god that stands before him.

“Seems she was right about you, Captain. You really will defend her until your dying breath.” Hades smirks, flicking his wrist. A thick fog coats the ground and smoke lifts, forming and hardening as it takes shape until a horde of beasts stand beside their creator. Scaley skin of various colors and fur as black as the most treacherous sea, that hissed and growled at the sight of the ragtag group. They seemed to multiply in size and number, making them more gruesome than anything the reformed pirate had ever encountered. But none of the creatures compared to the nefarious nature of their master. The embodiment of death. The manifestation of the devil. It made the Crocodile’s worst, darkest state of being look like child’s play. His pallid, tawny flesh and red rimmed eyes, sent adrenaline and terror shooting through his veins. “Why don’t I help you fulfill that promise?”

They draw their weapons, Hades disappearing as the monsters lunge for them, Killian’s cutlass slicing through the serpent's flesh.

-/-/-

When Emma wakes, it’s from the weak spluttering of her heart, her feeble bones bruising against the rocks where she slept, her chest hollow and every breath short as if her lungs are preparing to cave in on her. Beyond the weeping, she hears new sounds, the clamor of metal, wisps of wind, a soft crackling that doesn’t belong here in the vast, neutral temperatures of The Fields of Mourning.

“Swan!?’ She cringes at the calling of her name, the final piece of her repetitive torture. _Parents, Henry, Killian._ Emma’s gone through the process too many times to count, always reminded that they never loved her, will never love her and will never come for her. The sounds of swords and beasts only manifestations from Hades to heighten her senses and pour hope back into the two tiny pieces left of her heart.  “Swan, where are you!?” She closes her eyes, swallowing back tears and driving the belief out of her system. “Swan.” His voice is barely above a whisper, breathy and hopeful and so painfully him, it coaxes her to open her eyes and the sight of him takes her breath away.

Though each time before, he has looked the same, there was always something off, a piece of him missing. But now, this Killian, standing before her with piercing blue eyes and overwhelming smile it finally feels right. It feels real.

“And what do we have here?” Hades calls, his voice rougher - angrier - than it has ever been before.

“Stop it, please.”

“I don’t take orders from prisoners, Swan. This is my world, my game.” Though she can’t see him, she imagines his black irises even darker with wrath. “Let’s get this over with, then. Make your choice, _Killian_.” The usual puff of smoke appears, along with the brunette pirate queen and all Emma wants to do is run, but instead she stands and pulls at the chains around her wrists.

His eyes dart between Milah and herself, contemplating both, eventually letting his gaze linger on Emma. She steps forward, mentally noting that Hades vexation is because despite his magic, Killian came for her. She can feel the line about dashing rescues and saving princesses dancing on the tip of his tongue, a small smirk rising as she lifts up her head to him. His feet shuffle closer to her and with just a few more steps, she could collapse in his arms.  

And then her world is shattered. Killian pulls Milah into him, his hand brushing across her cheek and into her hair, eyes staying focused on Emma’s as his lips press furiously into Milah’s. An obvious smile pulling on his face as his hook presses into the small of her back to close the space between them. His eyes alight with satisfaction and glee at her misery.

The ache in her chest is punctuated by the tight hold he has on the brunette’s hand as they turn and walk away, Milah’s head on his shoulder.

Every sensation is numbed, there is no pain around her wrists from her confines, no twist in her gut. There is nothing but a drumming under her bones, the charring of her organs, the singe in her chest as she tries to remember how to breath. It’s a slow descent to the ground as she tastes the salt from her tears, a soreness she has never felt before washing over her.

It’s in that moment, when her head hits the frigid ground, that she realizes the noises she heard minutes before have dissipated. There is nothing but her loud cry and those of her fellow lost souls to be heard.

-/-/-

Snow’s arrow pierces through the air, a whimper of pain from one of the dogs as Killian falls back behind Regina. In his peripheral, he sees David raise his sword in defense against the Hydra. There’s a few more grueling minutes of slashing, filled with howls from the creatures and winces from the group. Killian wipes the blood off his cheek with his wrist, raising his cutlass in the process to defend himself against the two headed hound. He lifts his arm to deliver the next blow when an excruciating scorching pain overtakes him. His blade clatters against the ground as he falls paralyzed where he stands, trying, failing, to keep from screaming out her name.

“Killian, what’s wrong!?” Snow calls out to him as she launches another arrow towards the beast in front of him.

“Emma!” The two syllable name the only word his mind allows him to say.

There’s a beat, a collective gush of air rushing from the lungs of the beaten heroes, “Hades!” The Queen’s voices bellows up towards the dark canopy above them. “We have the Dark One’s dagger.”

All the fighting stops, the creatures slinking away from their prey until they are left alone, Hades appearing seconds later. The god stalks towards them, halting at Killian’s feet. He tilts his head with a smirk and Hook flinches. “The dagger?”

“Just give us Emma; we have what you want.” Mary Margaret’s voice is firm, a contrast to the hand on his shoulder.

Killian shifts, grimacing in protest when it feels like a whirlpool has formed behind his eyes. The deity tilting his head back and forth as he takes in Hook’s convulsing form. It’s villainous, poisonous as if he’s peering into the depths of his soul to find the most harrowing way to kill him.

“Answer me this, Captain. How much do you love the Lady Swan?”

“With everything in me.”

“Hm,” A harsh hand cups Killian’s face, clutching tightly as Hades bends to inspect him further. “Well, who am I to stand in the way of _true love_?” The force of which he is pushed back is enough to set Mary Margaret off balance as well. “Give me the dagger and I’ll give you your princess. On one condition,” Hades seizes the lapels of his jacket, hauling him closer, running his tongue across his teeth as chuckles lowly, dangerously. “The Captain is the only one to retrieve her.”

“Done.” David’s voice is steadfast as Hades pushes Killian away to get his hand on the dagger. “Now where is she?”

“Just go through the aperture in the rocks there, she won’t be too far.” Hades runs his hand down the side of the rugged blade, a sheer look of delight imprinted on his face. “Oh and, uh, you’d better hurry. She’s _dying_ to see you.”

Hades’ laughter rings through the cave, echoing off the walls. Killian pays no mind to the amusement oozing from his tone that causes dread to pool in his gut. Instead, his eyes narrow at the small opening, pushing past the fear and the ominous being, towards the bend of the cave wall - towards Emma.

The anxiety rises with a new intensity - an excitement at the prospect of holding her in his arms again. But more than that there’s a less common emotion, one he’s not sure he’ll ever be accustomed to: pride. He never thought he could remain a hero without her guiding hands and comforting words.

He turns a corner, his gaze focused as he surveys each break in the stone in hopes that she will be there. He can feel his throat swell with anticipation, to know he wasn’t too late (that he won’t lose her they way he’s lost so many others) causes his steps to quicken and his core twinge with a feeling he hasn’t felt in far too long. For the first time in weeks, Killian feels like he can breathe.

He peers down another alleyway and suddenly his legs feel weak and his whole body feels like an exposed nerve; on the edge of the farthest wall, huddled small like the dying embers of a long forgotten fire, Emma lays in the darkness.

Killian staggers towards her, the edges of his vision blurring at her fragile form. He sucks in a breath through trembling lips, his heart heavy and full as he exhales a prayer of her name.

“Emma.”

**  
  
**


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to Bianca because it's her birthday. We love you! I'm sorry the update took so long. Life happened and we were not prepared. However, I believe this is a chapter everyone has been waiting a long time for, so without further adieu, I give you the NOT last chapter.

_**I don't know where to go from here now** _   
_**Something still lingers though, it's weighing me down** _   
_**I know the sun will shine again** _   
_**Back and forth it seems we'll remain until the end** _

He’s running to her, each step sending shrills of pain through him til he falls to his knees at her sobbing form. “Emma,” he chokes out, reaching to brush her hair away from her concealed face.

“No.” She shifts her weight towards the wall and he withdraws his hand, a confused pang coating his features. She’s huddled on the ground, tremors controlling the rise and fall of her chest. Her face rests on the bend of her elbow, hands chained to the floor.  He wants to swoop her in his arms and carry her away from this hell and promise to never let go, but there’s a warning in her voice, fear sheathed in heartbreak. Killian furrows his brows, nails digging into the callous of his hand as he tries to conjure up anything that will bring her back to him.

“Emma,” he repeats her name in fractures.

Her voice is barely audible, a squeak of cracked and bruised syllables rather than words, shaky breaths that combat the room for oxygen. He’s never heard her this broken. This weak.  “Please, just leave.”

“Not without you.” Killian raises his hook, ready to break her free, the sharp edge barely touching with the rusted links when he feels her shove him away.

“I said leave!” Though her voice is hoarse, there’s a determination behind it that sends shock powering through his veins. Any joy he had of finally finding her is long gone, replaced with anguish and dread. Her body quivers with each stir - swollen, tear stained eyes on the verge of defeat.  

“Bloody hell, Swan. We don’t have time for this.” Killian glances back at the cave entrance in sheer desperation.

“How could you do this to me!”

“Emma? What are you -”

“How could you do this to me!” Her arms lash out against him in anger, his necklace leaving imprints in her palms. “You said I was your happy ending! You said you’d never leave me! I believed you. Every word, every kiss, everything. I fell for all of it. But, you didn't mean any of it did you? I was just a game to you! How could you-” Her words are jumbled in sobs as her tears soak into him. The cuffs encasing her bite at his skin, cool metal chains drubbing his sides.

“Stop, Emma! Emma, stop.” Killian pulls her into him, her arms thrashing in protest for a few more seconds before she gives in. “I’m here. I didn’t leave. I’m right here.”

He knows now that whatever Hades has done to her heart is much more than a physical crushing, but a psychological game that has brought her back to a place he's only seen the emotional scars of. Reopening and worsening wounds of a lost girl that created sky high walls.

“I loved you.”

The past tense pierces through him, like a corroded knife - twisting and ripping at his insides. Tearing him apart as each letter leaves her cracked lips.  “I know.” It feels like there is cotton in his mouth, his voice lost as the stinging surfaces behind closed eyelids. He is suffocated, his mind a jumbled mess of things he cannot change and possibilities that never happened. Killian takes a deep breathe, his vision blurred as he stares down at her - weak, battered, bruised. A lost girl that no longer believes in her love for him, and even more so the love he has for her. But to tell her now would be foolish, to finally voice his feelings for her aloud is a desire that sears through his body like nothing he has ever felt before. “Can you just trust me, one last time, and let me take you home? Please?”

“How can I know this is real?”

“Trust me.” She eyes him fearfully, holding her hands out in an act of submission and defeat rather than trust and love. But there's a question in her expression as if she might come to believe him. When he breaks the chains, her body collapses into him and his arms tighten around her, his hand and hook stroking the soft, dirty cotton of her sweater.  Killian exhales a breath of relief, burying his head in her hair. It’s matted and sticks to the stubble of his beard, but her arms encased around his neck have never brought more solace, her heartbeat slowing and syncing to his own. He bites his lower lip to keep the emotions swelling to the surface at bay. She’s here and it’s nothing like the reunion he envisioned, but _she’s here_ and _she’s alive_.

“Killian?” He feels the vibration of her voice against him, small huff of his name on his skin, rather than hearing her broken tone.   

“Aye, love?”

“Take me home.” There is an ease in her voice as she speaks, a small flicker of confidence as her fingers twist into the hair at his neck. It’s familiar. It’s like being on solid ground after months of being cast out into an unruly sea. Almost on instinct, Killian tightens his hold on her - his hand finding refuge between her shoulder blades, his hook twisting into the white fabric at her waist. The muted scent of _her_ , heady and intoxicating, sending him into a frenzy of emotions that he can no longer hold back.

“As you wish.” The tremble in his voice only amplify the chinks that follow each syllable. A minute smile forming as he recalls the true meaning behind his words.

Emma shakes in his embrace, a quiet whimper evading her lips followed by a trickle of tears against his chest and it’s then that he remembers where they are. Killian takes a deep breath, sniffling back his own tears as he makes a move to stand.

They wind back around the aperture to where her parents, Regina, and Hades are waiting. Mary Margaret's expression crumbles at the sight of her daughter, a whisper of "Emma" parting from her lips. He can feel the boulder of panic reforming in his chest when his eyes meet her family’s, the worry plastered to their face like a second skin.    

"Job well done Captain. I must say I'm surprised she came with you." Anger sets in the clench of Hook’s jaw, Emma emitting a small whimper at the god's voice. Her arms cocooned tightly around his neck and the prospect of almost being home providing great motivation for the restraint he needs.

"Don't listen to him. Let's just get out of here."  Regina's voice echoes off the walls, followed by a welcome swish of magic as a portal appears before them.

"I'll miss you, Princess. It's been a blast." The words are slow, pausing for emphasis that lets them slither off his tongue before picking up again, almost in a whispered tone that's threatening and sinister.  Killian tries not to read into the satisfaction oozing from Hades's features at her broken form. (At the way she presses herself further into him, the hitch of her breath on his skin and the water droplets staining his shirt beneath tensely shut eyes.)

He clings tighter as they fall through the portal, emerging back in the now empty library.  "It's okay, love. You're home. You're safe now." Emma nods in response, the tension leaving her muscles as she melts into him, her body jerks back with a cough, face contorting in pain. Hook shifts his weight, leaning on his forearms to get a better look at her face. There are scrapes on her forehead, bruises on her chest and a paleness to her skin that resembles too closely to Liam’s before he succumbed to the dreamshade. It’s like a punch to the gut, the realization dawning on him, that though he has found her and brought her home, she is nowhere near safe. She is broken and weak, lying too close to the line between living and dying. Emma’s eyes fall closed as she struggles to take a breath and he moves quickly, getting up from their position on the floor and walking them to a table, placing her gently down into a chair as her parents rush over to her side. Both of them embrace her tightly, elation and a bit of concern coating their whispers of her name. Her father’s hand comes to rest on the back of her head before they pull away, fussing over her like a child in need - overbearing and overwhelming, forcing her grip on his hand to tighten with a strength he’s not entirely convinced she has to spare.

“Killian?” The whisper of his name draws his eyes back to hers, pulling his gaze from her parents as they converse over their next plan of action.

“Are you alright?” Hook crouches lower to the ground, keeping his voice gentle and timid - a contrast to her parents - bringing their joined hands up to her face to brush an errant strand of hair from her eyes. He dares not pull his hand away, the hold she has desperate and he loathes that he does not have two to comfort her with. A feeling he is sure will never quite disappear.

“I just want to go home.” Her eyes are gleaming with deep dejection, dropping her head against his shoulder. “Please, Killian. Take me home.”

 

He nods, keeping the grip on her hand as he offers his hook for her to balance herself as she stands. She’s unsteady and her weight sinks into his arms, Charming rushing to her side to help. It’s almost reluctantly that she lets go of his metal appendage to take her father’s hand. Apprehension on full display in her hesitation, nervousness glimmering in her eyes as she moves her gaze between himself and David.  She careens closer to Killian, staying bound to his side as they venture to the car with Mary Margaret following closely behind.

She’s shuffled into the back row of seats, Killian pulling her into him once they settle in. Her muscles stiffen at the contact but she curls into him, head resting atop his chest. She’s skittish, jumping at the slightest of noises: the humming of the radio, turning of knobs, and shutting of doors. To say she isn’t herself would be an understatement. It feels as if he’s witnessing the child version of her, guarded yet longing for someone to cling to, someone to trust. Terrified. Withdrawn.

It only worsens when Mary Margaret swings the loft door open, tension palpable for everyone as Emma stares blankly ahead. “Thank you.” she mutters towards her parents after Killian leads her to the kitchen stool.

“I’ll make some hot chocolate,” her mother offers, hand caressing Emma’s cheek with a sad smile before turning her attention to the cupboards.

David sets a glass of water on the tabletop and she accepts, downing two glasses before the warm mug is placed in front of her. Killian wraps his arm around her as she sips, his hand gently stroking the sleeve of her sweater. He wants to talk, to ask if she’s feeling any better, instead of committing her every movement to memory, studying. Analyzing with careful delicacy, afraid to overwhelm and overstep these unknown boundaries.

“Mom!” Henry barrels through the loft in a blur of brown hair and a swaying jacket, the booming pitter-patter of shoes running on the wood flooring causing Emma to jump. The mug plummets to the ground in a loud crash - her eyes wide like a deer in the woods.

Everyone's heads snap to Emma and she ducks her head down, staring idily at the broken glass that lies at her feet. “I don’t...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay, love. It was an accident.” Killian bends down to sweep up the pieces in the inside curve of his hook.

“Mom, I missed you.” Gone is the excitement, replaced by irresolution and unsubtle analysis. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Henry. I...” She runs her tongue across her upper lip, letting four beats of silence pass between them. “I missed you too.”

Her parents are one thing, their relationship never finding solid ground before she was ripped away time after time. But ever since Killian had known Emma, Henry has always been the priority. There has never been a hesitation or a struggle for power. _She loves Henry_. Now, however, there is a question in her eyes, an insecurity sparking to life. It almost resembles fear. A fear that she shouldn’t be here, doesn’t belong, and isn’t wanted. When Emma’s eyes flicker to Killian’s in a silent plea of uncertainty, he knows this is far from over.


	11. Chapter 11

_**And I've lost who I am, and I can't understand.** _  
_**Why my heart is so broken, rejecting your love, without, love gone wrong, lifeless words carry on.** _  
_**But I know, all I know, is that the end's beginning.** _  
_**Who I am from the start, take me home to my heart.** _

Her tremors are masked with the nod of her head as she falls into him, his reassurances- _It’s okay, love, you’re home. You’re safe now_ \- falling on deaf ears. Without warning, her body is racked with coughing, jerking back with tautly shut eyes. He’s staring at her with wonder and trepidation braided into his expression.  And though their location has changed, it does not ease her breathing nor the ache, the gaping hole, in her chest. Killian walks them over to a nearby chair and she spots Regina leaving, the dulled click of the door that no one else seems to notice. Before she can ponder why the Queen has left so abruptly, her parents are hovering, repeated whispers of her name over and over and over, sucking the oxygen from the air as they hug her too tightly and talk too much. It’s overwhelming and conflicting with what she’s come to know of them, come to believe. It makes her home feel more foreign than the undiscovered realms. She grips Killian’s hand with all her remaining strength and she feels him tense in her hold, a silent understanding passing between them. “Killian?”

“Are you alright?” He crouches lower to the ground and she appreciates the gesture. His  tone gentle and timid as he brings their coupled hands up to her face, fingers softly brushing across her cheek and tucking the thick strands behind her ears. Killian lets his hand linger there, rubbing soothing circles at her temple with his thumb.

“I just want to go home.” She can feel the weakness in her own voice, how her eyes leave his as her head falls into his shoulder. He can’t see her expression here and maybe if he can’t see her, he can’t see how much she needs him, even if she doesn’t want to need him. “Please, Killian. Take me home.”

He offers his hook for balance as they rise and she accepts with wobbly legs, letting her weight slump into his arms. David is by her side within seconds and she repeats in her mental fog that _it’s okay, trust him Emma, it’s okay_ before releasing the cool metal in exchange for her father’s hand. She continues to careen towards Killian as they walk, hips bumping while make their way to the car.

The door startles her. Every noise startles, every knob turn and indistinct hum of the radio. Initially, her muscles stiffen at Killian’s touch, her body still in fight or flight as she silently talks herself down. But then, she curls into him, placing her head on his chest and drowning herself in his heartbeat, pleading with her mind to quiet.

She’s ushered inside like a child in trouble, their hands grabbing at the back of her shirt as they all but force her to advance forward into the too bright loft. Hook leads her to the kitchen stool and she sits, his arms wrapping around her, trying to anchor her back in reality, fingers caressing the fabric of her sweater from behind. “Thank you.” Emma mutters to her parents, the upward turn of her lips not meeting her eyes.

“I’ll make some hot cocoa,”  Mary Margaret offers, the soft motherly caress of her hand feeling foreign to this new version of herself.

David sets a glass of water on the tabletop, the liquid cooling her hoarse throat as she reaches for another, consumed with a thirst she hadn’t noticed until now. She assumes that whatever magic was in the Underworld sustained her in that matter. Snow sets a mug topped with sprinkles of cinnamon in front of her and she accepts, gingerly sipping the hot beverage. Her mind slips back to Hades and she lets it stay there, too exhausted to fight the demons that plague her for-

“Mom!”

Henry dives through the loft, the door slamming hard against the wall reminding her of Hades’ clap of thunder upon his arrival to her corner of hell. She jumps in her seat, the mug breaking to pieces as it hits the floor. Emma can feel the room’s eyes on her as she stares blankly at the ground, apprehensive and concerned faces peering through her. Through her walls and into her brokenness. “I don’t...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay, love. It was an accident.” Killian’s voice cuts her off and he stoops to the ground, gathering the pieces in a pile with the inside curve of his hook.

“Mom, I missed you.” Now even her son is hesitant to speak to her as he not-so-subtly analyzes the situation. “Are you okay?”

She hears the words tumble out of her mouth before she processes them, an age old guard rising up before he, or anyone, can delve any further. “I’m fine, Henry I...” Her tongue skids across her upper lip as she searches for the right words, loathing her own uncertainty in her feelings. Behind him she can see Regina looking on with leering eyes. “I missed you too.”

There’s another collective moment of unsettled tension, eyes watching for her next move. She knows what she would have done before her time in The Underworld - she would have pulled her son into her arms and held him tight, press her hand to his head, relish in the warmth that floods her heart when she embraces her baby boy. But now, as Henry shuffles towards her and presses his chin atop her shoulder, there is no warmth. Only a shadow of a voice in her mind, repeating tiny falsities that she has come to believe as truths. The longer he clings, the harder it gets to breath - a sharp thumping in the place where her heart should be, a crater formed by words that bellowed out of a rugged mirror.

Emma lifts her eyes from the rivets in the floorboards to Killian - her lungs protesting, still too weak to take a decent breath - hoping he can still read her as well as he had always claimed and that it wasn’t a lie he would whisper in her ear at night.

“Henry, why don’t we give your mother a minute to catch her breath? She’s still a little weak from our travels.” Emma doesn’t miss the distress that rolls through the blue of Killian’s eyes like a tidal wave, the way her silent _Thank You_ makes his jaw tick.

“Yeah, okay.” Henry gives her shoulders one final squeeze before backing away - the look on his face breaking her heart for reasons she can’t quite understand.

The boy in the mirror resembles nothing of this Henry, the sadness that washes over his face a total contrast to the happiness that oozed from the one behind the glass. It sends her mind into a frenzy of thoughts, making her doubt what is real and what is not. Whether she can trust any of them.

“Henry, you can stay with me tonight.” Regina’s voice is oddly heartening, not marred by the darkness of the Underworld, no self-doubt linking itself to her words. It’s a friendship formed of circumstance - although mostly rocky at times.

“That sounds like a great idea. It’s been a long day as it is, we should all get some rest.” The prospect of rest, at Mary Margaret’s insistence, causes another boulder of panic to mould in an already empty chest. Even if she’s closed off, the idea of being left alone to scrap up the fragments in the aftermath, if only for a night, terrifies her. To feel Killian’s fingers, gaze, _presence,_ all slip away once more in exchange for something else seems all too much (too similar to the magic produced clone that crushed her heart).

But when she glances over to him, his every feature outlined in worry and telltale jaw clench, she begins questioning the merit of these fears, further blurring the lines between reality and delusion.  

“Emma, honey why don’t you go get cleaned up? Take a hot shower?”

It is a great idea - she can feel the dirt coating her skin and matted, clumped hair that falls around her shoulders. A part of her wants to stay fantasizing in this skewed cosmos where they pretend to love, with genuine care reflecting in their eyes instead of facing her first moment back alone. But she knows it will make her feel at least a little bit better to have the faucet wash the remnants of her stay in the Underworld away. Maybe being clean will help her think straight, maybe it will start to heal.

Emma looks to Killian, eyes flooded with too many emotions she can’t name. His grip on her hand, hook resting against her hip, anchoring her in a way that is both calming and oppressive.

“I’ll be right here, go.”  

The exertion that seizes her during her small trek to to the bathroom is visible in the slight quiver of her legs. It’s degrading, her inability to do the simplest of tasks as she leans against the wall for balance, door now concealing her from their concerned faces.  Hidden away with the faucet to drown out the noise, she can stop pretending and just feel. She sinks to the ground, watching as the dirt circles the drain and stains the water gray. The heat and pressure is soothing to her muscles as she tries to scrub the pain away. It doesn’t work, each memory on a loop as she pictures Hook’s face full of contempt, Henry smiling as he proclaims he’s happier without her, her parents saying that her job is done, no one needs her anymore...

She listens instead, cracking the curtain open to clarify the words from behind the closed door. _She’s not herself. Give it time, we only got a glimpse of what she’s been through in that bloody inferno._ Their voices quiet and she closes her eyes, daring her emotions to spew over as she pictures Hades. It sends chills down her spine and she increases the temperature, slinking back so that she is completely submerged in the downpour. It’s an hour before she turns the water off, wrapping a towel around herself and settling on the edge of the tub.

There’s footsteps and three gentle knocks on the door - she can hear the clank of metal rings against the wood and she sighs, relief engulfing her lungs.  

“Emma, love. Can I come in? I have your clothes.”

“Yeah, one second.” She tucks the corner of the towel in and opens the door to invite him inside, shutting it behind them. “Thank you.”

Emma’s fiddling with her hands when he gasps, throwing the clothes to the side and rushing to her, hand reaching out to touch before pulling away. “Bloody hell, Emma. What happened?” Her wrists are blood red, scabs mounting the surface where soft skin should be and arms tainted in discolored spots of yellow, purple and red. Instinctively she reaches to cover them, stroking it with pruny fingers on damp skin.

“Hades.” The weakness in her voice is echoed throughout her bones as she averts his gaze, staring instead at the tile that litters the floor. His anger radiates into the small, enclosed space. “Hey,” Emma steps forward and links her hand in his. “It’s okay. It’s over now.”

He doesn’t hold back this time, pulling her into his arms, his hand sifting through the wet tangles. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t get to you sooner.”

Emma shuts her eyes as she hugs him tighter, relishing in the warmth of his embrace. It’s easy here, falling back into a rhythm long established. “It’s okay. I’m okay now. You came and you tried and that’s all that matters.” He presses his lips against her head and she flinches. It feels familiar but wrong, his voice and touch tainted by manifestations of her deepest fears. A conundrum of confliction that’s too exhausting to sort through. And he can sense the change, his small steps backwards extenuated by a weak smile, his thumb tracing her jawline.

“I’ll let you dress now.”

Emma can only nod, crossing her arms as goosebumps rise to the surface, body adjusting to the cool that he absorbed, frigid air and feelings she can neither name nor comprehend that eat away.

-/-/-

He glances back at her before shutting the door, leaning against it as another wave of anger soars through his veins. Killian closes his eyes, breathing heavily as he anchors himself to the present. There is nothing he can do now about what Swan has went through, no possible way to change it no matter how much he wants too. He pushes himself off the old wood, shuffling back to the kitchen where her parents wait for him with expectant eyes.

“How is she?” Snow offers a soft expression, the corners of her mouth twitching up in a poor attempt at smile.

“I should’ve run that bloody demon through with my sword.” The words taste like venom against his tongue - hissing out through clenched teeth as the need to break bones rattles through his own.

Charming looks strained, his hand reaching out to grab Mary Margaret’s. “What did she tell you?”

“She didn’t have to tell me anything. She has bruises up and down her arms, across her chest.  Her wrists, where the chains were…” His words trail off in a whisper, hand running roughly through his hair. He can’t stop the images that rumble through his mind - his Swan being manhandled like a ragdoll, tossed about like she is nothing more than someone’s play thing. “It’s not enough to try and crush her heart, he had hurt her physically, as well?” Killian sighs loudly, arms coming to rest against the cool countertop as he ducks his head down.

He can feel his emotions rising to the surface once more, overtaken with misplaced guilt and unbearable sorrow. It swirls in him, heavy like lead in his blood and rocks in his gut. His cheeks flame red and his eyes burn from unshed tears. He wishes he could take all the bruises marring her body and decorate himself with them; make the choking anguish in his throat more visceral.

The sound of the bathroom door opening forces him upright. She looks like a small child; her hair falling in wet clumps against her shoulders, arms tucked securely around her chest, eyes downcast and dull. It’s clearer now, how weak she is - her body barely carrying her to where he stands, her breath shallow, her skin pale. His worry bubbles back to the surface to lodge itself between his lungs.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be in there so long.”

“It’s alright, love.” He tries desperately to keep his eyes focused on hers and not the contusions that are littered across her skin. “Do you feel any better?”

Her motions, unsteady feet tripping over each other, betray the nod of her head that answers yes.

“I’ve got you.” Killian’s arms envelop her quickly, his hand coming up to cradle her head as she careens into him. He feels her jaw extend in a yawn across his shoulder, the vibration ricocheting through her frail form. The look he exchanges with the prince is one of deep concern at Emma’s current state. He briefly wonders when the last time she got any real sleep was, the stress of the day’s (months) events ebbing away from the surface, sanctioning the exhaustion - feeble muscles and tired eyes - to take her captive.  

“Snow and I are going to go to bed, you two should do the same.” David says with a squeeze to his wife’s shoulder. Killian swoops his hooked arm under Emma’s knees, picking her up and carrying her bridal style up the stairs.

“I can walk, you know.” Emma mumbles.

“But that wouldn’t be any fun, Swan.” The sadness gleaming in his eyes give way to the otherwise playful words and he wonders if she knows how much it breaks him to see her hurt. He sets her on the bed, cocooning her in the sheets that had already been pulled down in anticipation for her arrival, before turning to leave.

“Don’t go.” There’s a gentle tug on his hand that anchors him back to her side, desperate eyes searching, reading, deciphering hers.

“I’m just going to sleep on the couch. I thought-”

“Stay.”  

Relief rolls through him as he leans down to kiss her head, walking to the opposite end of the room and trading in his clothing for a comfier choice. When he climbs in bed, she curls into him, relaxing into his shoulder and wrapping her arms around him. It’s different than normal - the same actions, same positioning, but _they are not the same_. He can feel her slipping away the closer she gets, can see the reflection of a lost girl in her bloodshot eyes, the heartbeat that once lulled her to sleep making her jump. The exhaustion that rumbles throughout her is more than just a temporary depression and he longs to know what the deity did to make her question her rescue earlier in the day.

She falls asleep easily, but it is not restful. She tosses and turns, incoherent noises occasionally filling the quiet loft as he tries to whisper promises - truths in her ear to silence the demons that still plague her, his stub rubbing soothing circles in her back as he contemplates waking her. Before, Emma Swan slept through anything, even the cries from the baby downstairs.

He has to remind himself that this isn’t like before and not everything has a magical solution. Killian kisses her head again, letting his lips linger on the damp hair that tickles when she moves, letting a teardrop fall onto his pillow as he closes his eyes. And though they shut, sleep does not come. So he waits for her to wake, hoping that his presence will be of comfort to her.  

-/-/-

It feels like a laying on a cloud, hair slicked back haphazardly behind her lightly brushing the pillow that supports her head, her body sinking further into the softness beneath her. There’s a warmth snaking around her waist that tugs her closer and an ease that coils in her stomach at his breath on the back of her neck.

She bolts up with a sharp inhale, frantic eyes surveying the room that is a perfect imitation of her own as she awaits laughter from above to taunt her. Waiting for everything to fade back into the darkness that is supposed to surround her.

“Emma? Emma, what’s wrong?” Killian’s sitting up with her, hand reaching out to grip her arm and lull her back down.

“No, no this isn’t funny.” She throws the sheets off, a confused twinge that hurtles through her at the tangibility of it all; the coolness that cloaks her fingers, the scent of perfume and rum on her bedspread, the small ship that rests on her armour, his clothes folded neatly in a corner. “You’re not really here. This...No he’s playing with me, Hades. It’s just another one of his tricks.”

“Emma, this isn’t a trick. You’re home. We brought you home.” He brings his hand to her cheek, forcing her frenzied expression to meet his - full of concern and tenderness. “I know you’re scared, you have every right to be, but I promise you, love, this is real. You are safe now.”

Bundled up anxiety is released with the deep exhale that ensue his words. She nods, slinking back down and burying herself in his chest, allowing his touch to calm her, to try and chase the fears away.

Her limbs feel even heavier than they did before, eliciting a soreness that adds to the singe that still burns where her heart should be. When he holds her, however, the singe lessens, transforming instead into more of distant throbbing. It’s what coaxes her to stay despite the voices screaming inside her to run, repeating the last few months in her head.

Emma’s almost asleep when she feels the mattress shift, his quiet footsteps only noticeable because she had been listening for them. It’s like earlier, the comfort and oppression that logically should clash. But they don’t. They collide and they mingle, reaping a discomforting relief at his both his absence and his presence. The same is reciprocated with how she feels around Henry and her parents.

“How is she?” She can hear her father’s words from below. His tone is so dissimilar from what she heard in the Underworld.

“I stayed up all night. She slept, but not very well. I can’t even begin to imagine what she must have been dreaming about. I wish I could take this pain away from her, do something more than just hold her all night.”  

Yesterday she would have believed Hook did not care for her, that she was another challenge, or conquest rather, that could be won over. But this Killian is not him. He is everything she had always believed before. Before visions that haunt her every breath distorted him into a version that only exists in the darkest depths of her unconscious, created by insecurities and failed past relationships. Hades had called him the catalyst to her demise, using love in all of it’s forms, to break her and leave her more heartbroken than she has ever felt. She wishes she could erase that man, the fake Killian, from her mind and return the love she sees shining in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My wonderful and beautiful friend Francesca MADE A TRAILER TO THIS FIC. WATCH IT HERE. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zndEZKQPijc


	12. Chapter 12

**_Little do you know_ **   
**_How I'm breaking while you fall asleep_ **   
**_Little do you know_ **   
**_I'm still haunted by the memories_ **   
**_Little do you know_ **   
**_I'm trying to pick myself up piece by piece_ **   
**_Little do you know_ **   
**_I need a little more time_ **

_****_

_His hands wrap around her shoulders, fingers trailing down her collarbone. They feel like needles drawing blood, the longer they linger the more it hurts. They move to her arms, jolting her up until there is no gravity, no air, just pain coursing through her body and a weightlessness that parallels suffocating. But her wrists abide the worst of it. Scabs forming over one another, the itch of dried blood caking itself to her newly yellowed skin. Every twist of the shackles, every pull on her chains, breaks open a new wound; blood dripping down her arms and staining her once white sweater._

_Her head feels heavy, the liquid oozing from her mangled wrists; making little black spots appear before her eyes. Her captor laughs, removing the metal from her left wrist to grip it tightly in his large hand. She wants to cry out in agony, but her voice is gone replaced with tormenting silence and Hades' maniacal chortle._

_“You’re losing consciousness aren’t you?” His cracked lips graze the shell of her ear, sending shivers of panic down her spine. “How about one last game before you go?”_

_Her head smacks the side of the wall as he pushes her, body falling to the ground with a thud as he looms over her. His fingertips skim across her chest as his lips tilt up in an iniquitous smirk. Her eyelids shut tight, body paralyzed in fear._

_“You’ve something I want, Swan.” The lilting accent forces her eyes to open rapidly. No longer is Hades hovering above her, but Killian. His eyes dark with malice, his smile feral. “It belongs to me anyway, does it not?” He laughs then, a deep chuckle that brings tears to her eyes._

_His movements are quick, his hook digging into her chest and piercing her heart. He pulls it out slowly, almost relishing in the slow burn that he knows flows through her veins. “It’s as red as a rose, truly befitting of a savior.” Killian squeezes it once and she wishes she could scream, do something more than lay there and watch the man she loves destroy everything she ever wanted for them._

_“As much as I’d love to crush this myself, I promised to share the spoils.” Her back arches off the dirt floor as he rips her heart in four. Her head rolls to the side, her chest heaving in pain. “Open your eyes, love.” He spits the endearment at her and she does as she’s told, wishing instantly that she hadn’t. Henry is there now, along with her parents all sharing the same expression as Killian - who hands them all a piece of her now broken heart._

_She sees the dirt give way under his knees as he repositions himself above her and she feels his lips brush across her neck. He is nothing like the man she knew, the usual tenderness replaced with a barbarity she has never known from him. “It’s been fun, Swan.” Killian places one last kiss to her cheek before standing, resuming his place alongside her family._

_“I wish we could say we’ll miss you, but honestly we won’t.” Her parent’s voices pierce through her eardrums, shattering her world with every syllable._

_The pressure blooming in her chest is unlike anything she has felt before, tears burning as she watches them all slowly turn her heart into dust. The last words she hears are Killian’s, filled with amusement and animosity, “See you around, **love**.”_

Her hand clutches at the fabric of her shirt, franticly searching for her own heartbeat. Her mouth hangs open in a silent scream, tears cascading down her cheeks as she takes in her surroundings. The room is dark, lit only by the moonlight pilfering through the crack in the curtains, but it’s familiar. Everything is still set in its place from before she left - the tiny model ship still sits delicately on top of the cabinet, her red jacket draped over the chair in the corner. But there are things out of place, pieces that don’t quite feel like they belong. The dark blue dress shirt thrown over a pile of neatly folded clothes, black boots placed methodically next to hers.

A wave of anxiety seizes her. The need to run, to take shelter, to hide towering over her with a force that has her shaking beneath the floral sheets.

“Emma?” His voice is rough, the remnants of sleep making his accent thicker. Killian leans gently towards her, the mattress dipping under his weight. There’s a pain hidden beneath the surface of his azure eyes when she backs away, the jump in her skin as he moves to touch her cheek. Emma’s eyes sweep across the dark room once more, panic still gushing through her bloodstream. “Calm down, there’s no one here. It’s just us, you and me.” He inches toward her, his expression clear and gentle; his mouth agape with words he can’t find and eyes soft as he gauges her expression. He stays on his side of the bed, leaving her alone on the left.

“Before…” There’s a crack in her voice as she tries to speak, a weakness that doesn't quite fit who she is, who she used to be. “Before I was - we used to do something to make the nightmares go away, but I can’t remember if it’s real or just…”

“It’s real, your father taught it to you after the Crocodile tried to crush my heart. Do you remember?”

“I...we’d light a candle. Did we...You lit one for me on the Jolly, when I was staying with you after my parents lied to me. I had nightmares about it and you lit the candle on the table.”

“Aye, I did. Would you like me to do it now?”

“No.” Emma drops her head to his shoulder, the feel of his arms coming around her more comforting than she’d imagine. His lips press into the soft skin of her forehead and she can’t help but sigh in relief. “You'd hold me too, until I fell asleep. Like you were protecting me."

“And I wouldn’t let go til morning.” Her sadness is mirrored in his eyes, in the shimmer of droplets that blur their vision and threaten to spill over. It’s the understanding in them, in the soft caress of her cheek and his wrist tracing her spine that draw her gaze down. “We’re still us, Emma. I know Hades has hurt you in ways I couldn’t possibly comprehend, but he can't change _this_. He can't change us, the way we are together. That is something only you and I know.”

She wants to believe his words of comfort, let them seep into her soul and fix the cracks in her heart. But she can’t, the visions of a different him still too raw and fresh in her mind. They counteract her Killian’s words, because Hades had known how they work - the casual intimacy that lies between them, the secrets they’ve shared, the trust they’ve forged through beanstalks and ice walls. He knew and despite her best efforts, it changed everything.

Emma bites her lip and nods, knowing that no more sleep will come tonight as she curls into him. She counts the rise and fall of his chest beneath her as time drags on and the seconds become hours. He stays awake with her, absentminded kisses pressed to her hair and soft shapes drawn with the pads of his fingers on her arms even as the morning blooms outside their window.

-/-/-

The cool breeze slips beneath the hem of her shirt and forms goosebumps on her skin. She’s standing by the docks, jacket pulled tightly as she watches Killian teach Henry the intricacy of knot tying. Killian had asked her to join them but she declined, more content to observe than participate. It’s easier like this. She feels caged in around them as she tries to convince them (and herself) that nothing has changed.

But the past week has proven just how wrong that notion is. Everyone around her has created a deeper bond. She sees it most with Killian and Henry, in the tidbits of knowledge they now know about the other: the friends at school and the classes, the movies that, before she left, Killian had never seen. It was an easy back and forth between the two of them. However the same has not proven true for Emma and Henry.

She had tried on numerous occasions throughout the week to bond with Henry again. Lunches at Granny’s, movie nights at the loft, hikes to his castle in the woods. But each time resulting in an uneasiness that settles in her bones, feeding off the remnants of the mirror magic and leaving her feeling like the lost girl she thought she had overcome. The hurt is reflected back into Henry’s eyes, a downward turn of his lips at her silent response and fidgeting hands. Their whole relationship has shifted into something awkward and forced, his voice and eyes bringing memories of a different him seen through piercing glass. And though she knows it’s not true, maybe if she keeps her distance not even Hades's version of her son will want her cast out of his life.

Her parents are no different, overwhelming her with gentle hands and soft words. Their relationship was rocky to begin with, just barely conquering the terror of their secret before she sacrificed herself to a fate worse than death. It hurts to see them with her brother, to see the confident way they hold him, the love that radiates off them effortlessly when they’re near him; it hurts to know that with her, apprehension and speculation replace the ease and joy.  In the back of her mind, beneath the cobwebs of deceits, Emma knows they are only trying to help - much like everyone else - to fix the problem they can barely understand with doctor visits and useless hours of rest. She is short with them, too, quick evasions and even quicker answers to their relentless questions. An avoidance that slices deep, tears surfacing in her father’s eyes with every drawback of her hand and jerk of her shoulder.

It’s that look on her family’s faces that had her tossing and turning in an empty bed - wishing for Killian’s company and yet relishing in his departure in the same breath. After three nights of nightmares and staggering anxiety in his embrace, Killian had told her he was leaving. Retreating back to his ship to give her more space to have the bed to herself in hopes it aids in her rest. It was nothing she wanted and everything she craved. Watching him leave, the soft footfalls against concrete resurfaced memories of what felt like an eternal hell where she was always at the mercy of Hades’ wicked ways. But the look in Killian’s eyes that he was trying to mask, the one coated in desperation and heartbreak, stung far deeper than the hauntings she experienced in the Underworld. The mist that shines in his eyes when she shies away from his kiss so unfamiliar that she wishes she had the courage to say sorry, to kiss his pain away like he has done for her so many times before. It’s the knowledge that this is the real him, the one who gave up everything he had for the mere possibility of being with her that brings that same mist to her eyes and makes her chest ache.

“Emma?” Killian’s voice draws her away from her thoughts. Her head snaps up, confusion at the sheer concern on his face as he walks over to her. “What’s wrong?”

It’s then that she feels the warm tears staining her cheeks as more pool behind her eyes. Her hand goes to wipe the vagabond droplets away, clasping over his in the same moment as his thumb traces the circles under her eye. He smiles softly at her, a sad and solemn thing that she can feel deep beneath her scarred heart. “Sorry,” Emma murmurs, her eyes locking with his in a moment of oblivion that quickly passes. She shakes her head, rising from the bench and letting out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. “I’m fine. I just need to clear my head.” She pulls her jacket tighter once again. “I think I’m gonna take a walk. I’ll be back.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” she looks over to Henry and smiles. “Hey, Killian. Thank you.” Emma’s grateful when he doesn’t ask what for, the understanding passing between them filling in the gap of unspoken words.

-/-/-

Killian watches her disappear behind the bend of the road, her gold hair and leather coat dipping out of sight.  When she’s gone, a heavy breath punches through his chest and out from between his lips.

He hadn’t expected this hurt; this writhing, consuming agony that wrapped around Emma’s heart and mind. In the weeks she’d be gone, he imagined her return more times than he could count. The image of her back in his arms happy and loved and whole the only thing that kept him going on nights where it seemed the odds were against them. But the reality of her return was anything but what he envisioned. Hades had hurt her and the pain remained and Killian had no idea how to make it better.

The force and depth of her suffering lunges deep in his gut, tearing him apart in a way he hadn’t deemed possible. It’s his love for her - the passion he feels with the entirety of his soul - that squeezes the air from his lungs, drains the blood from his veins, creates cracks and caverns in his heart as the shadows around her grow darker.

“Is it just me, or does Mom seem different?” Henry’s voice breaks through the wind, puncturing the silence that had fallen over the docks when Emma left.  Killian turns to him, frowning at the crease in his forehead and the downward spill of his lips. Henry’s hands twist around the rope, much in the same way that Emma does when she is clouded with anxiety, and it burns another hole through Killian’s heart.

“Aye.” He hates that he agrees, abhors the thought that again something is standing in the way of their (his and Henry’s and Emma’s) happiness. But the boy is clever and he doesn’t need Killian’s lies. He needs the hope. “But, different is better than gone.”

Henry ducks his head, kicking at a rock. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his coat and sighs. “Is it?”  

Killian’s jaw flexes as he tries to push his own feelings aside, force back the swell of grief that rattles against his bones. “Your mother is here, Henry. She’s _here and she’s safe._ ”

“But she’s not-- not _really_.”  Henry argues. “She hasn’t smiled a real smile once since you brought her home and she can barely stand to be around Grandma and Grandpa.   And she let you leave the loft, barely lets you touch her. Which that in itself is just strange. Ever since you guys started dating you’d been attached at the hip. Making eyes and kissy faces.” Henry’s face contorts in mock disgust and Killian can’t stop the smirk that nudges past the sorrow they both feel. But the moment is quick to pass, as the boy’s eyes downcast towards the waves that crash against pilings. “The real Emma, _our Emma_ , isn’t here.”

He struggles for the words to comfort Henry, to remind him that Emma’s strength is still buried beneath her scars. Killain looks down at the lad, mouth open with false hope, but the lift of Henry’s face stops him - his mouth is quirked in a smile, his eyes glinting with something other than tears. “You have a plan, don’t you?”

Henry looks towards where Emma had wandered off, his shoulders held high, and something about the confidence makes the ache in Killian’s chest lighten. “ More like a mission that isn’t finished yet. I think we have to bring back Operation Cygnus.”

-/-/-

The farther away she gets from the docks, the more her mind clouds with fear and trepidation. The look on Killian’s face as he knelt down to brush her tears away, Henry’s confusion at her current state. Emma shakes her head, trying desperately to hold onto her sanity, her reasonings for leaving the protection of their presence in search of a better solution to her misery.

Her steps are determined, heavy clicks of her heels against the sidewalk as she makes her way through town. She ducks her head against the wind as the chill bites against her skin, reminding her of just how long she’s been gone. Weeks have passed, the trees no longer lush and green, but red and sparse. It casts an eerie glow over her. This place used to be her home, made her feel safe and loved - happy. She remembers life before The Underworld, how excited she was to spend the fall season with Killian and her family. Show him the traditions she had always longed for - apple picking and pumpkin patches, cider laced kisses and picnics beneath the colored trees.

But now all of the anticipation is gone and what once was a comforting embrace, a second nature instinct, now feels desolate and foreign. Killian’s smile, his real one with the wide dimples and crinkles that make his eyes shine brighter, has been absent since her return. She knows it’s because of her, how she pulls away with every step forward he takes, mentally elsewhere or drowning in the anxiety that seems to be her sole emotion. She tells herself to stop, silent screams that refuse to listen to the broken heart that beats inside her. She tells herself that the only way to heal is to let them love her, to let herself be surrounded by the familiar serenity they provide. But forgetting the magical torture she’s been through is easier said than done. Their words may be different, but their faces were the same and she can’t let go of the fear it may all come true. And it’s that fear that is keeping her from moving on, from moving forward with the ones who love her.

Emma takes a deep breath as she turns a corners, leaning against the tall shrubs that encase the two story home giving herself one last moment to swim in her deluded grief. She squares her shoulders in mock confidence as she walks the path she has done many times before, her hands shaking as her knuckles rap against the white grain.

Shifting her weight between her feet, Emma holds her breath as the door creaks open. A sheepish upturn of her lips as Regina eyes her quizzically. “Emma?”

“I need your help.” Her words sound as lost as she feels, blood rushing to her ears and drowning out the sounds of the world around her.

“Of course, anything you need.” Regina opens the door fully, and any other time Emma’s sure she’d laugh at contrast between this moment and the first time she stood on the Mayor’s doorstep.

“I need you to make me a forgetting potion.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! BUT THAT FINALE - I WILL NEVER BE OKAY AGAIN. I thought it was amazing, I cried and I cannot wait for 5b. I'm so excited. Anyway, thank you all for sticking with us this long. We have 17 chapters and an epilogue planned. I believe we left off with Emma seeking a forgetting potion...

_**Tell me you love me** _   
_**Come back and haunt me** _   
_**Oh, and I rush to the start** _   
_**Running in circles** _   
_**Chasing our tails** _   
_**Coming back as we are** _

The Mayor’s house is immaculate , a hospital level antiseptic that has Emma fidgeting in her seat and trying to stay steady  in one breath. Her still sore muscles ache to sink into the cushions of the sofa but she holds herself up straight as Regina emerges from the kitchen with two teas. “Sorry that took so long,” Regina says, taking the empty seat next to Emma.  “Now, I need you to tell me what happened.”

“I’d rather not.”

She gives her that look - the same one she’s seen from Killian when he knows she’s hiding behind walls, evasiveness wearing him thin even though he understands - and Emma buries herself in the warmth of the steam rising from her mug.  Regina sighs .

“Emma, I can’t just…”

“You can. I know you can. You owe me.”

“I’m well aware, but I’m not wiping your memories without knowing why.” Emma’s half annoyed with the Queen’s reluctance. It’s suffocating enough without voicing what she went through aloud and that is a wound she’s not prepared to keep probing. Not yet. It sends her cowering behind rebuilt walls, only to peak her head out slowing when Regina’s eyes shift from admonishing to sympathetic. “I know this is painful-”

“Yeah it is.  That’s why I want to forget it in the first place. I wouldn’t have come to you unless I really needed it. I need to forget.

“Then tell me. Tell me what it is you want to forget, although I think you are making a terrible mistake, but I’ll consider it.”

Emma bites her lip and Regina sighs again, but it’s more out of sadness than frustration. Bringing Hades mind games out into the open seems too painful and personal - a battle she would much rather fight alone. But she needs this potion and -

“This isn’t you, Emma. This behavior and using magic as your first solution. As a friend, I am asking you to tell me what the damn Dark Lord did. I,” she contemplates her words, directing her gaze down to pristine coffee table in front of them, before meeting Emma’s eyes again. “I know he crushed your heart. We all do. But we don’t know _how_. “

“How did you know?”

“That’s not important right now. But what is important, is me knowing what exactly you’re needing to forget.”

“He um...Hades used a form of mirror magic to make me watch everyone I love talk about...say they didn’t love me, or need me. That they never did and were never even going to try and find me. Sometimes it was that they were afraid of me, of my magic.  And everytime I look at them, that’s all I see and all I can hear. “

“And you actually believed it?”

“Well, yeah after a while.”

“Henry, your parents, Hook all love you Emma. Your lovesick puppydog was a moping pain in the ass  without you around.” Emma tries to smile at her, a melancholic press of her lips and crinkles that form at her forehead with a nod.  Her eyes shut tight at the second mention of Killian and she wills those memories not to cling to his name, tries to bury the guilt she feels at _lovesick puppydog_.  “What are you not telling me?”

She could tell her how lifelike he looked, the manifestation of Killian that Hades had dangled in front of her.  She could tell her that the desperation in his voice matched that which she felt - feels - in her soul,  and how his eyes lit up with mirth at the sight of Milah, staring straight through Emma like she never had a chance. She could tell her the words he spat in her face, coupled with Hades encouragement, is what _broke her_ , their footsteps echoing off the cave walls and crushing her heart. “I just...I had to watch him leave me, more than once.”

She can see the flicker of recognition flash across Regina’s race at her confession,  it’s soothing and irritating all at once. The wounds and scars from her time in The Underworld are still too fresh - still sting, still bleed, still cause her heart to burn at the thought.  The looks on her parent’s faces, her son’s distain, Killian’s contempt towards her seem permanently imprinted on her soul and no amount of truths told seem to be a reasonable solution.

“I want to help you. Really I do. But these,” Emma can see the way she contemplates her next words, a bitten back frown and eyes that look anywhere but into Emma’s.  “Fears and walls of insecurity cut deep and you need to heal. You need to heal your heart and accept what's happened to you. Your secrets are not mine to share, but you have to share them. You have a huge support system around you. Utilize it.”

“After everything we've been through, everything I just told you-”

“This is not you. The Emma Swan I know would frown at such cowardice. You told me we're friends well, this is me being one. I’m sorry, but I can’t give you that potion.”

“Fine.” Emma bolts up, anger staring daggers into her eyes before turning and departing, her heart tightening in her chest and muscles protesting.   Deep down, below the heartache and confusion, she knows she has no reason to lash out at her friend. (If it were any other time, any other situation, Emma would smile at the thought of Regina genuinely caring for her wellbeing.) But things are different now - she sees the world  and her family differently now - and no amount of good intentions can change it.

Emma rounds the corner, eye’s glancing between the road to the docks and the dirt path of the forest - her heart hammering loud in her chest and her palms sweating against the idea of going back to the two men she once loved more than anything. Two men who depend on her to be better, to go back to the woman she used to be and if Regina won’t give her a magical solution to her problems she’s left with no other option but  to revert  back to who she was before Storybrooke. She will fix this, one way or another.

-/-/-

It physically pains him to see her this way, pushing back against the love she fought so hard to find - to accept and be able to give back -  hiding behind solid stone walls and trying her hardest to keep them away.

But Killian is persistent, knowing what’s best for her even when she can’t see it herself, so he and Henry set out a plan to bring her back into the light, _back to them._ They bring her cocoa with cinnamon and grilled cheese sandwiches. They invite her to join them on the Jolly Roger to bask in the warmth the sun still provides through the chilling fall air.

(Henry had eagerly invited her to their sword fighting lesson earlier in the week, beaming with both excitement and pride to show off the moves he’s been learning. He’s a quick study, just as his mother was, harnessing moves Killian was half certain would have taken longer to master.

Killian’s heart practically leapt from his chest when she laughed at Henry, the boy spinning with the grace of a swan and a triumphant raise of his fist as his sword clinks against his own. He’s quick to find her eyes, imprint the sparkling green into his memory until it resurfaces again. It’s been so long since he’s seen her this way, seen her smile and heard her laugh. Killian winks at her, a quick thing, before letting Henry grapple him to the ground - his own smile growing wider when Emma laughs again, the sound like sunshine against the darkness in her soul. )

But it's not enough to fix her, to show her the truth against whatever dark magic Hades wielded. Which is why Killian again finds himself in the library, rippling through dusty tomes for something - anything - that can give him a clue to help her.  He knows there’s more to the story than just simply pulling her heart from her chest and squeezing until there’s nothing but dust.

(The image too gruesome, too vivid for Killian to stomach. Shutting his eyes tight and letting out a shaking breath, reminding himself for the millionth time that, that was not her fate. They won the battle - though it seems he may have lost the war, for he may be losing _her_.)

It’s enough to send him spiraling, thoughts racing for a solution that his comforting glances and constant presence cannot bring. That route keeps her running from him, and although he thought they were past this point -

_I love you._

\- he can’t say that her reactions aren’t justified if his research has any merit to it. Hades’s magic is darker than any force he’s ever known. The emotional drainage and feeling of abandonment that arouses louder, stronger than he has ever felt, as if the universe and all its realms were pressing down upon his chest, reminding him of every bad deed he’s ever committed and every reason he should not be loved, enough to do even the greatest of saints in. That’s without the verbal and visual reinforcement. And it’s that same dark magic that has him walking to the former Evil Queen’s house in search of answers for an impossible situation.

-/-/-

They are making her plan to stay distant difficult, but there’s a part of her that doesn’t mind the company. If she’s being honest with herself, it’s helping, at least with Henry. He brings her grilled cheese, invites her to go sailing and to watch him sword fight with Killian - giggling despite herself when she sees the theatrics they put on for her, spins and tackles and loud voices yelling words she doesn’t quite think are appropriate for Henry.  Her stomach flipping in a way that’s more pleasant than hurtful when Killian gives her a wink before letting Henry wrestle him to the ground.

It goes on like this for days, watchful eyes that cage her from solitude and lunches filled with talk to try and perk her up, bring her back to herself.

(And when they depart in the evenings, after the sun has fallen behind the trees and the wind nips against the back of her neck, she is reminded of just how painful this must have been from their end. When Henry reluctantly leaves for Regina’s instead of going up to his bed in the loft and Killian parts from her side with misery in his eyes and uneasiness in his bones.)

Even  for Killian, it’s easier with Henry. They’re inseparable, always talking, approaching her as a pair, scheming, which she accidentally overhears after arriving too early for breakfast at Granny’s. _This is going better than I thought it would. Aye lad, I’m a bit shocked. Yeah! At this rate it won’t be long until she’s back to herself and Operation Cygnus 2.0 is a success._  It throws her for a loop, falling back on her heels in silence before they can catch her.  There’s a small flicker, a dulled flame, of hope hidden beneath the scar tissue that feels remedial. But she keeps the newfound information to herself, memories of the boy who took a bus to Boston to find her and bring her home resurfacing and melting some of the walls around her heart.

(It’s still too raw with Killian, too real, for the pain to recede, so she pushes that part of herself aside, telling herself that Henry is all she needs, all she will ever need and makes plans to meet her son at his Castle in the woods.)

-/-/-

The clank of his hook against the door is louder than he intended, and he clenches his fist, hoping that Henry is not the one to greet him for fear his solo research would be discovered. He’s relieved when it’s just Regina, a snarky comment to greet the desperation and anguish in his eyes.

“You’re the Evil Queen. You‘ve wielded some of the darkest magic I’ve ever encountered. You must know something I’m missing about the Underworld.”

“Wow, hi nice to see you too, Guyliner. I take it you’re here about Emma.”

Regina gestures him inside with the wave of her hand, unease finding residence in his bones as they enter the living room. “Aye.  She’s distancing herself, she’s skittish, she-”

“Damnit. You’d think that for once she might actually take my advice and not make things worse for herself. “

“What the bloody hell are you talking about? What advice?”

“You might wanna sit down. And try not to yell at me, it’s too early in the morning.”

He stiffens his stance, digging his heels firmer into the rug and she rolls her eyes.  His mind races with a million thoughts, all worse-case scenario as the picture of her weak and trembling frame, blood dried on her wrists, bruises across her collarbones and arms, comes to mind. He’s found through his research just how dangerous the Underworld is and if what Emma went through is enough to make Regina nervous...

“Hook - Killian, please.”

It’s the way his name falls from the Queen’s lips that has him slowly sinking into the cushions. There’s a level of care for not just Emma’s well being, but his as well, that’s he’s never heard from her before. It causes his heart to jump and his skin prickle with panic.

“Emma came to me for a forgetting potion the other-”

“You gave her a forgetting potion!”

“What did I say about the yelling? And no, I didn’t, if you’d stop jumping to conclusions and listen for five seconds.”  He clenches his jaw despite the relief flowing through him at the fact Emma doesn’t have a forgetting potion, that his Swan can only run so far from whatever had her doubt he and her family’s commitment, their love, for her.  “Your girlfriend’s in a lot of pain right now.”

“I’ve noticed.” He growls through his teeth, wondering where the Queen’s world class bluntness has gone when he needs it most.  

“I know what Hades did to her. “

“Why haven't you said anything?”

“I didn’t think it was my place, I figured she had told you by now. Unfortunately, I was wrong.” Regina looks down at her shoes, biting her lip and for the first time, he really sees the apprehension in her face, in how she can’t meet his gaze, the internal struggle and anxiety she feels at being the first to inform him. While Killian would much rather it be him, he can’t deny that he’s glad Emma has someone she opened up to.  “She was forced to watch her family through a form of mirror magic that plays off your insecurities. She watched Henry, the Charmings, you, all tell her she wasn’t loved, wasn’t needed. I think that possibly the reason you felt her heart was because of the way Hades used you against her. She dodged my question about you, said that she had to watch you leave, repeatedly.”

His blood starts to boil as Regina recants what Emma had said. The white hot fury burning though every muscle and bone in his body feeling strangely stronger than the centuries long grudge he’s held against the Crocodile. His fist is clenched tight, knuckles white and nails digging half moons in his palm, mind racing with ways to take vengeance for what Hades has put Emma through. It’s only when Regina places a gentle hand on his arm that Killian’s shaken from his thoughts,  brought back from the edge of darkness and towards what truly matters.

“Regardless of what’s happened, Killian, _you’re her True Love_. You and Henry, that’s why it hurt her so much. Emma may think she’s doing the right thing by distancing herself, but the only way she is going to heal, which I’ve already told her, is by letting her family back in.”

There’s a swell of dread rising beneath his breastbone as Killian nods his head at Regina’s words. Emma's love for him was used against her in the most agonizing way possible and there is _nothing_ he can do. The same love coupled with fears of not being enough, never enough for someone to want. He understands all too well how running _feels right_ , an easier solution to the truths and insecurities in the pieces of a broken heart. She may have a plan of self exile but she will not be alone. (He will not be the reason she's alone - the reason she doesn't believe she's loved. And neither will her family. Slowly, they will fix this. Together.)

 


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: Okay, first off if you are still reading this thank you. Thank you. Thank you. New jobs and first jobs and school and just overall life all make for a long time of schedules colliding. But after almost 5 months, we bring you this chapter and promise to update in a quicker manner. There's only two chapters and an epilogue left, with the one year mark of first posting this approaching in exactly one week. Tell us what you think in the comments and we hope you enjoy._  


**_I've been sleepwalking, been wandering all night_ ** ****_  
_ **_Trying to take what's lost and broke and make it right_ ** ****_  
_ **_I've been sleepwalking too close to the fire_ ** ****_  
_ **_But it's the only place that I can hold you tight_ _  
_ _In this burning house_**

The leaves crunch beneath her boots, and she pulls her jacket tighter against her neck to keep out the wind, trampling through the forest in search of Henry’s castle. The year is coming to a close and the thought makes her chest ache. She had so many plans for how she wanted to spend the summer months - days on the beach with her family, watching her brother splash in the surf, hiking through the woods with Henry in search of new hideaways,  nights spent on the deck of the Jolly curled against Hook’s side with her head on his chest as he tells her about the stars. But those days are lost, just as the green has been lost from the foliage.

It's not hard to spot the playground; the metal structure such a contrast to the deep colors of the forest. A soft smile graces her face when she spies Henry’s hand sticking out of one of the holes in the red tunnel.

His head pokes out of one end, the branch Emma stepped on giving away her presence. “Mom?”

“Hey, kid. Mind if I join you?” She doesn’t wait for his answer, instead climbing up until she’s sitting next to him.  They haven’t had a moment like this in what feels like years and it hurts. She’s missed so much without even realizing. “How are you?”

“I’m okay,  I was just reading the storybook.” Emma watches his legs swing back and forth over the edge where they sit, his fingers playing with the page.

“So, I think I owe you an explanation.”

“You don't have to-”

“Yes I do.” She takes a breath, biting her lip as she muses through all the ways she can tell Henry the truth. He's still a kid in her eyes, so reminiscent of the 10 year old spitfire who showed up at her apartment door, and she wants to hold on to that. Wants Henry to have the childhood she never did, spare him the scars that she herself carries. “Hades...he crushed my heart. And he did it by using you. You, Mary Margaret, David and Killian. “

“I don't understand, we weren't even there.”

Emma thought for a moment. “Do you remember when Gold pretended to be Killian to get the dagger? And how he looked and talked just like him?” She waits for Henry to nod in understanding. “Well it was kinda like that. There were these fake versions of you, of everybody. They told me that I wasn't worth their time and that they hated me. I saw it so often I started to believe it. And when I look at you, or your grandparents, or Hook, I would hear those words again.”

“But that's not true! None of it. Saving you was Operation Cygnus and it's all I could focus on. It was all anyone could focus on.”

She smiles, fighting the tears against the cool wind of the forest. “Yeah, I know that now kid. Wait...Operation Cygnus?”

“The name was Killian’s idea. Gramps wanted to name it Operation Swan but I told him that wasn't cool enough. Far too obvious.”

“You and Killian planned the operation?”

“Named it. Planned it. Hook said the Cygnus was the constellation he looked to when he missed you when we were in New York.  He has _really_ missed you.”

“Yeah. I’ve missed him too. “ In truth, she did miss him. His comfort and love the only thing that seemed to keep her alive all those weeks. And if Emma was honest with herself, she misses him even more now. His smile, his kiss. She longs for their quiet moments and the intimacy they shared. But the images conjured by Hades have contorted and warped her. Every memory with Killian - every touch, every look, every press of his lips against her skin - are shadowed by his alter’s words, making her brain question his intentions and her heart long for his healing presence.

“So, are we good now?” Henry asked, interrupting her thoughts, “I kinda want my mom back.”

“Yeah, Henry. We’re good now.”  She wipes a tear from her cheek and pulls him into her, cradling the back of his head. “I love you.”  

“I love you too, Mom.” His voice is muffled by the grey fabric of her coat, but Emma hears him clearly. Her heart singing back to life at the inflection of his voice, so true and pure that every deceit she came to learn about him fades back into oblivion.

Behind him she spies the thick chestnut cover of the storybook peeking out from the other end of the red tunnel. Sniffling away her tears, he tells her of his secret writing place - hiding out in the minimal shade the trees provide in the scorching hot summer, recording the progress of Operation Cygnus. He smiles when she asks to see it and she can’t help but thumb the pages of the book that brought her home. Tucked away behind the illustrations and words that have shaped her life is looseleaf paper he had planned on adding to the book as August once had.

“Hey, so I promised Gramps and Killian I would meet them at the docks. They're going to help me with my sword fighting. Any chance you would want to meet up at the loft and we can grab dinner at Granny’s?”

She laughs, genuinely laughs, (he seems to be bringing that out of her lately) at the inevitable battle between the two men trying to show the other up. She can picture the banter now, of who has better form and technique and Henry trying anything and everything until the threatening starts and they’re forced to break for food. “Sounds like a good plan. Mind if I keep the book? Looks like there are few stories I need to read.”

“That’s cool, just bring it with you later? I wanna finish the one I was working on tonight.”

He’s off in a flash, racing down the road and Emma can’t help but smirk. She waits until he’s out of sight before re-opening the magical ledger, her breath escaping in a heavy exhale. Emma hasn’t truly touched the book in months, the bound leather feeling foriegn against her fingertips.

It’s out of habit, solace, that she scans the words of her parents’ story. A solid and real reminder that love exists, that hope guides you towards a happy ending. And she wants that; happiness and safety in the arms of a man she loves.

(But she doesn’t want that with just anyone. She wants it, needs it, from the man with eyes the color of the sky. The one with a heart of gold and a sense of loyalty the likes of which she’s never known before.)

She shifts, folding her legs underneath her, and one of Henry’s new pages falls from the book. Emma has every intention of just slipping the page back into place, but when she sees her and Killian’s names, curiosity once again gets the best of her.

It takes her a few moments to decipher Henry’s handwriting, but once she does, the shock of what she is reading knocks  the air from her lungs.

She remembers that day so vividly; Killian taking her and Henry out into the bay on a ship he borrowed from one his former crew members. Her laughter had come so easily that afternoon - along with Killian’s kiss and Henry’s feigned disgust at their embrace - Emma was certain she had fallen even more in love with the former pirate.

Small, intimate moments between the three of them continued their path across the page. It all seemed so simple, written in the black scribblings of her son. A pirate and a princess. Two lost souls showing each other their world and opening their hearts in the process. The proof was in her hands, in between flimsy blue lines that spoke of a truth stronger than Hades’ tricks. And even if she’s not sure where to go from here, how to silence those voices, there are two people who have overcome it all in the name of True Love. Her parents.

-/-/-

 _The mirror lies. The mirror tricks. It wasn't real_ .  She repeats to herself as the memories resurface and conflict her plan.  But she needs this, needs direction and to stop hurting those she loves - to stop hurting _Killian._ Amidst the hesitation that slows her steps, however, there is also the nagging of her gut telling her to push forward. She wants to trust her parents. She wants to see Killian happy.  After 28 years she's due for motherly advice anyway.

“Everything alright?” Though her mother’s voice is gentle, it startles Emma out of her reverie.  Realizing quickly that through her mental fog she's already made it into the loft and is leaning against the closed door.

“Yeah. I mean nothing has changed and I'm...the same. I guess.  I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh, okay. Come sit, I was just heating up your brother’s bottle.”

One scan of the room and she knows there’s no escaping. Her body tenses as she finds her place on a stool next to her mother and she tries to hide it with talk of their younger third party. “How is my baby brother?”

“He’s good. He missed you, we all did.” Her mother says as she removed the bottle from a pan of warm water.

“I missed you guys, too.”

“So what did you want to talk about?”

Emma hesitates, taking a deep breath to calm her already frayed nerves, “Killian…”

“Did something happen between you two? I noticed he hasn’t been around much since we brought you home.”

“Yeah, I kind of asked him to give me some space.” She directs her gaze at the hardwood floor, focusing on the lines and loops of patterns to keep her grounded. Keep her present. “Now I’m not so sure was the right idea. Which is why I wanted to talk to you. Have you and Dad ever…” She lets her words trail off. The thought of admitting her anguish over the hallucinations burns and Emma hesitates to say them outloud, afraid that doing so would  make them more real.

“Fought? We do sometimes.” Mary Margaret said reasonably, “I’m sure you and Killian can work it out.”

“That’s not…”

“What is it then?”

“It's just… we've… he’s... ” Emma sighed, “You told me when we met to open my heart to love and I did, but now… After everything that happened with Hades and the Underworld, I just don't know how to get back to that place.”

“What place, Emma? I'm not following. He found you. You're home now, what is there to be afraid of?”  

“I know he did, but -”

“And you know how true love works. You always find each other. You should know that by now, Emma. I’m sure whatever it is that you’re afraid of you can get over.”

“But Mom -”

“You just need to let go of the past and focus on the future. Didn’t you tell me before you disappeared that you wanted to find a place for the two of you to live? Maybe now’s a good time to start looking. A fresh start.”

“Mom, you’re not listening.”  Emma’s fingers clench around the countertop, her frustration growing as she looks at her rambling mother’s  wide smile and overzealous hands.

“...Move past all that darkness and get back into your Savior Shoes, as you called it. Maybe you can call him and go on a date or two. You always felt better after a night out with Hook.”

“MOM! You aren’t listening to a word I’m saying! That’s _not_ what I need! I don’t need to go on a date with Killian! I don’t need a speech about True Love and hope like I’m just a random bystander in your kingdom!”

For a moment, Mary Margaret’s face clears of the diplomatic smile she always wears and Emma’s shoulder sag in relief that her mother understands.

But then she cocks her head to the side, face scrunching in obvious confusion, and Emma’s stomach drops.“What do you need, Emma?”

Her heart constricts and she can feel her magic thrum underneath her skin as heat floods inside her veins.  She considers backtracking, like she used to, but the words are thrown out before she realizes, too loud to be taken back.

“You! I need to know I matter to _you_ ! I’m not just the Savior. I’m your _daughter_.”

“Of course you are!”

“Not _of course_.  You have always treated me like I’m Savior first, daughter last. I’m more than my magic.”

“I know that. Emma, where is this coming from?” Mary Margaret scoots closer, dropping one hand on Emma’s back and rubbing soft circles.  Emma’s eyes close at the contact, so comforting and real and so unlike the mirrored version of the woman next to her.

“From _everything_ . It’s been one battle after another since the moment we met.  We hadn’t been together more than five minutes before you were trying for a new baby and it’s not like I don’t love him, _you know_ I do, and I know it’s not your fault that we lost all that time but that doesn’t mean it was mine, either.”

“I’m sorry, Emma.”

“I don’t need you to be sorry.” Emma said with another sigh, “I need your help.”

“Anything! How can I help you?”

Her head pounds with the effort to not run, to say the words that have been bubbling beneath her tongue for weeks.  “I know Killian loves me. I know that. But everytime we’re together, I can’t stop thinking about the way he left me, again and again.  I know it wasn’t really him but I don’t know how to forget what I saw. I don’t know how to trust that he won’t leave me. How do I open my heart to him again?”

Mary Margaret smiles, her shoulders relaxing.  “Emma, honey.  You two are True Love. All you have to do is listen to your heart and believe-”

“Oh my God!” Her frustrated cry is punctuated by the shattering of the wine glasses that sat on the far side of her mother’s kitchen. They exploded  as if she had squeezed them herself.  She can practically feel the jagged edges of the smashed cups in her palms, each finger tingling with residual magic. Her mother’s eyes are wide and Emma cringes away, gasping for air as her own vision blurs.

“Mom!” “Snow!” “Emma?”

Emma turns her head too quickly towards the voices coming from the front door, causing her vision to blur even more. But she can make out the silhouettes of Henry, David and Killian all standing tall with an expression to match her mother’s. The boys rush towards her and Mary Margaret, lips moving and eyes frantic, but she can’t hear anything over the roaring in her ears and the sob that's threatening to claw its way out of her constricted throat.

She pushes past them then, the door still wide open from their hasty entrance. It isn’t until she’s at the bottom of the stairs, finding her balance against the wall, that Emma can hear them again.  Her name echoes in Killian’s accent through the corridor making her magic spark in her palm.  Fear erupts from her gut, a horrified worry that he’ll come running down after her back her into a corner she is in no way ready to face. And it’s that thought has her pushing off against the wallpaper and out the front door.

-/-/-

She flies past him with her arms wrapped tightly around her waist as if her hold was the only thing keeping her together.

“Wait, Emma!” Killian calls after her but she's gone by the time he reaches the top of  the stairs. “What the bloody hell was that about!?” he shouts, storming back into the loft.

“She came over to talk and I think I said the wrong thing?”  Mary Margaret says, throwing the broken glass into the open trash bag David is holding.

Killian nods shortly, before striding towards the door once more.  “I should go find her, make sure she's alright.”

“No, Hook, wait. I think she just needs space right now. She’s dealing with so much, she needs time.” David walks over and puts a hand on his shoulder, smiling.  Killian reels back in disbelief.

“Are you actually suggesting that we let her isolate herself? Let her run?”

“No, of course not,” David answers. “But after everything that happened in the Underworld-”

“Exactly! After everything that bloody demon did to her, the last thing any of us should be doing is giving her _bloody_ space. She needs to know that she’s not alone, that we’re here to help her.”

“But if our help isn’t what she wants -” Mary Margaret raises an eyebrow, tilting her head.  Killian struggles to keep his temper.

“I don’t damn well care what she _thinks_ she wants, it’s not what she needs. Hades played with her fears, made her think that none of us want her, or need her, or _love her_ .” Killian stops short, running his hand through his hair and clenches his eyes closed.  When he opens them, Henry is staring at him with his mouth agape, his expression downtrodden, and Killian’s chest constricts,  knowing he is responsible for the  sad expression on the lad’s face.  He tries to calm himself down, to remember that getting angry won’t get them anywhere.   “I know Emma, probably better than anyone and letting her deal with this on her own isn't going to help her. She needs _us_ , she needs us to prove her fears wrong.”

“Okay, so what do you suggest?” Mary Margaret stares at him, her lips drawn in a tight frown and her eyes narrowed.  He’s not sure what he’s done to make her so angry with him, but considering how angry _she_ made _Emma_ , he’s not certain he cares.

“Let me talk to her.” He doesn’t bother adding that he doesn’t need their permission.

Henry clears his throat and he softens at his eager nod. “That’s good. She was talking about how much she misses you today.”  

“Yeah, but maybe Killian isn’t the best option right now.” His head snaps towards Mary Margaret, his whole body thrumming at her defiant words.  He can hear David start to question over the pounding in his ears but Mary Margaret continues, uninterrupted.  “She came over here to talk to me about you. I don’t know what’s going on in her head right now but I know it has to do with you and what happened in the Underworld.”

The hard expression splinters off of Mary Margaret’s face and she dips her head, her voice a bit softer. “She mentioned being afraid to let you in again, to love you”

Killian’s heart stutters in his chest, the beating now erratic, as if every nerve and drop of blood inside of him is rushing around, confused and anxious.  He can practically feel the tethers of his soul wither, can taste the fear like acid on the tip of his tongue at the very thought that Emma might not want him anymore.  He remembers how helpless he had been when she was trapped, how desperate he had been to save her; the emotions feel small in this moment, now that he knows Emma is _afraid_ of him.  Afraid to trust him, to let him love her.  She had given her heart to him once and he had taken it with the promise of protection but now he’s failed her.

From his spot in the corner, David spoke up. “I’ll go talk to her. We’ll meet up at Granny’s in an hour, hopefully I will have her with me.”

With the decision made, Killian flees the apartment.  It’s not as quick as Emma’s escape.  Where adrenaline from her _fear_ _of him_ had helped her leave, it’s the agony of her fear that weighs down on him, heavier than any other burden he’s worn.  

He reaches the door, his hand hesitating on the knob.  He could go to Granny’s, sit in their booth and order her favorite, wait for her and apologize for failing so horribly.  He wants to.  Wants to beg her to forgive him, plea with her for another chance to love her, to prove her every fear wrong.

But if Emma is nothing else, she is good. It was her strength that drew him to her, but it was the kindness always threatening to bubble over that made him fall in love.  He would not go to her with his trembling breaths and wet eyes.  He knew he was right that she shouldn’t be left alone, regardless of what she said.  But space from him-- well, how could he say that wasn’t right?  He would give it to her, not fight his way into her space when she needed room to breathe and heal.  

Though each step burned a hole in his heart, his chest throbbing with every bit of distance he put between them, Killian pushes his way out of the apartment building and heads away from town, towards the docks.

-/-/-

There's irony in there somewhere, she thinks, that when she can't have the man of the sea to comfort her, Emma turns to the sea itself. Staring out at the horizon in search of the peace it promises to provide.

(But that's lost too, crumpled in memories of leather, rum and a kiss that patches the pieces of her broken heart back together.)

Her body feels heavy as she settles against the yellow curb, her magic pulsating beneath her skin like a thousand tiny ants itching to crawl out. She knows this feeling well, though she hasn’t felt it in a long time now that’s she’s finally gotten control of her magic.

There’s a rustle behind her, heavy footsteps against tiny pebbles of unearthed pavement.

“Killian, I -”

“Not Hook.” She breathes a sigh of relief, though her heart aches at the sight of father. Emma watches with apprehension as David takes a deep breath and sits beside her on the curb. “He wanted to come find you, but your mother said it probably wasn’t a good idea for him to come.”

“I'm sure that went over well.”

“Honestly, after your mother told him why you came to talk, he relented pretty easily. He didn't look angry, he looked hurt.” The prince pauses, contemplating his next words before speaking up again.  “You know Killian said something interesting before I left.”

She tries to hide the tension in her shoulders. “Yeah?”

“He said that Hades played with your fears. That he led you to believe we don’t love you or want you. And that’s why you’ve been so distant since we brought you home. “

She swallows hard at her father’s comment, so lightly spoken as if it was the easiest thing to understand and not a deep seated secret that’s breaking her from the inside out. “ Yeah, yeah that’s true.”  Her lips purse together and she tries to smile at him, but it falters at the edges, leaving the revelation resting in the silence between them. When had she become such an open book to more than just Killian? “Wait, how did he know that?”

“I’m not sure, but he has been spending a lot of time trying to figure out what happened.  So he knows how to help you, _that’s all he wants Emma_. That’s all any of us want,  to help you move past this and stop hurting. “

“I want that, too, you know. To stop thinking about it all and just be normal again.”

“And you will be, just let us help.”

“I don’t know how.”

Her father’s sigh is heavy against the already howling wind but she keeps her head down - willing herself to ignore the furrow in his brow.  “That’s probably your mother’s and I’s fault.”

She’s taken aback by David’s sudden admission, quickly glancing up from the waves lapping against the pier to see the look of dejection laced across his face. “What?”

“Why you have such a hard time letting us help you. We’ve never really tried to establish that in the first place.”

“David.”

“Those fears that Hades amplified, they didn’t just come out of thin air. You had them all along even if you never realized it.”

“I never wanted you to know. I never want you or Mom to think that -”

“You’re mother and I, we do sometimes forget that you need us just as much as your brother does. It’s just that you’re so independent, so strong, that we forget. Those feelings and fears that you have are valid. And I am so sorry, Emma, that we ever made you think that we don’t need or want you in our lives. You are our daughter, first and foremost, that will never ever change.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s okay. I understand that it’s going to take some time to get over what has happened to you, neither one of us expects you to come back with open arms. But at least try? Give us the chance to right our wrong. Because we did you wrong, Emma.”

She wants to sort and categorize, name the feelings that are forming along with a headache. But she’s tired, so tired of fighting the emotions that are no longer locked behind a chained up heart. And she can’t name or categorize, can barely process the love and understanding bestowed upon her in this moment. So she’ll attempt it, because for the first time since returning she feels a little less alone. A little less misunderstood. “Okay, I’ll try.”

The setting sun casts an orange glow on her face as David pulls her in for a long awaited hug. It lasts longer than she’s used to, his grip almost scared to let go. “I know someone else who deserves a second chance.”

“Dad.”

“Hear me out.” He reaches for her hand, holding her fingers in his palm. It reminds her of how a father would grasp his young daughters hand and the thought brings tears to her eyes. Emma knows he’s waiting for her to look up at him before continuing and she gives herself another moment of reflection before slowing meeting his eyes. “I won’t pretend to know what happened with Hook, frankly as your father I’d rather not know the details, but I do know that he loves you. In the same way that I love your mother and he would die before doing anything to hurt you. Take it from experience.”

“I know he loves me, that’s not the problem.”

David’s expression softens even more, a deep depression washing over him as if he has finally come to understand why she is so afraid of Killian’s affection.“It was different, wasn’t it?  The way Hades used Killian, it was different?”

“It was. It was worse.” Despite her efforts, Emma can’t stop the images from reappearing. The harshness of the alter Killian’s words and the black of his eyes that spewed of pity and hatred. She was nothing to that man, and it still breaks her heart to think of his arms wrapped around another woman. “He left me, Dad. He just left me there.”

Emma sees an anger simmering beneath the clench of his fist, but it’s quickly squashed when he realizes who the real culprit was.  “A Hook born out of darkness may leave you behind, but this Hook wouldn’t. Just give him a chance, Emma, to prove you wrong. Like you’re willing to give me and Snow.”

“Okay.”

She’s dizzy when he helps her up from the asphalt and she leans into his shoulder, finding a solace in the way he doesn’t press her to speak. They walk and she thinks, engulfed in a bubble of self isolation as he leads her to what she has come to believe is a second home. The idea feels foreign to her; a home, but she made a promise that she cannot go back on. So she wills one foot in front of the other, scanning for Henry and her mother once through the diner doors.

“Hey, Mom, you came!”

“Yeah, kid. You know I can’t resist Granny’s grilled cheese and onion rings for too long.” Emma slides into the booth next to Henry, looking over his shoulder in hopes of catching a glance of the story he’s writing before he puts it back in his beaten up backpack. It’s when she looks back up that she notices Killian’s absence, the lack of a fifth chair making her squirm with unease. “Where’s Hook?”

Her mother looks as apprehensive as she feels herself, handing her baby brother off to David before reaching for the laminated menu.  “I don’t know, he stormed out of the loft and we haven’t seen him since.”

Emma knows what her mother is trying to do, play off Killian’s absence as if it’s nothing more than his temper getting the best of him. But she knows what that looks like, and as angry as he may be, he’d never break a promise to meet her. It’s something more, something deeper than walking in on her fighting with Snow and shattering a few glasses.

Maybe she’s finally pushed him too far? Her terror of the Underworld more than he can handle now that he knows the truth.

(The half truth, Emma reminds herself, because as much as he has come to know,  there is still so much she has kept from him. Illusions and words and bruises that weigh heavy on her shoulders.)

She hopes the turn of her head to the door is subtle, every jingle that marks someone’s entrance has her eyes scurrying to see if Killian has finally come to join them. But with every new patron that isn’t her pirate, Emma realizes that she’s finally pushed him too far. And as Granny comes to clear their plates, she makes a promise to herself. One way or another she will fix this.


	15. Chapter 15

**_Say something, I'm giving up on you_ ** **_  
_ ** **_I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you_ ** **_  
_ ** **_Anywhere, I would've followed you_ ** **_  
_ ** ****_Say something, I'm giving up on you_

**_And I will swallow my pride_ ** **_  
_ ** **_You're the one that I love_ ** **_  
_ ** **_And I'm saying goodbye_ ** **_  
  
_ **

He knew it wouldn’t be easy, to separate himself fully from Emma, but the pain he feels swirling within him is far greater than he could have imagined. Every intake of breath, every move of a muscle seems to take more energy than it’s worth. (Sends bullets through his flesh and fractures across his spine). The burn of rum does nothing to quench his longing for her, only causes memories to flood his system. Her lips on his in the Neverland jungle and late nights at the Inn ( their fourth date, especially;  the tight red dress that ended up torn on the hardwood and his paisley button down she wore home the next day.) This is a pain he’s never known; having all the answers with no clear solution. He had hoped, prayed, that she was his true love. But this-

He had caused her this heartache, inadvertently through the devil himself. But it was he who broke her, caused her to question his feelings and intentions. 

(He hates himself for it, that he hadn't made it clear to Emma that all he wants -  _ all he's ever wanted _ \- is to love her and be with her body, mind and soul until the day he dies. If he had, then maybe Hades would never have gotten inside her head in the first place.)

Guilt and despair form a knot in his throat as the florescent lights of the diner flicker above him and he takes another long swig from his flask. But he pays no mind, focusing instead on his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. 

“You haven't been into the library at all today. What’s wrong?” A soft accented voice comes up behind him and Killian turns to see Belle sit on the stool next to his.

“I just don't have a need to research any longer.” 

“What do you mean? Did you find out what happened?” 

“More or less,” His voice comes out rougher than he intended, but he doesn’t rightly care. There isn't a need to hide his emotions any longer, there’s isn’t anyone he needs to protect from that pain.

There’s a cynical voice in the back of his mind, reminding him that villains don’t get happy endings. That his brief existence in Emma’s life was always meant to end in heartbreak. That he was always meant to come back to this place. Alone, dejected, and shadowed in darkness.

“You didn’t get the answers you were hoping for?” 

“I found answers. They are just worse than I had anticipated.” He can see Belle’s silent inquisition, the gentle press of her hand against his arm is more telling than anything else. “That bloody demon used me against her. Used my love for Emma and turned it into…”

“Hades was poisoning the love you share.”

“That’s why I could feel it, why I could feel her heart...he used me to try and kill her. Hades made Emma believe that - and now she wants nothing to do with me. I saved her only to lose her in the end.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“Belle, she won’t even look at me. She flinches when I try to touch her. She...” His words die with a long exhale, hand rising and falling in defeat at the explanation he hadn’t wanted to admit out loud, let alone to himself. 

“Have you tried talking to Emma?”

“Aye and it didn’t get us anywhere.” 

“Because Hades used her deepest, darkest fears against her and it was strong enough to...Killian, I’m so sorry.” 

He had known that she was afraid of a future, of opening her heart only to have it crushed again. There must be more, he thought. Maybe, Hades showed her the man that Killian - that Captain Hook - was. All the bloodshed in the name of revenge with the tip of his metal attachment. All the darkness that still lingered in his soul, begging for a release he would no longer grant. Maybe there’s more to the bruises that littered her skin, perhaps it wasn’t Hades face she saw upon their infliction, but Killian’s. The thought sends a wave of nausea through him as he steadies himself with a white knuckle grip on the table. 

“This may not be something you want to hear, but we’re friends and you need honesty right now so that's what I'm going to give you. I know you want Emma back,  _ your _ Emma back, but you have to come to terms with the fact that she may never be that Emma again. The trauma that she's endured, she may never fully recover from and that's something you're going to have to face. Emma is a woman with many scars, more than most. You know how long it took her to trust you, to open her heart to you, and whatever Hades has done to her has reopened those wounds. And this time... they may never heal properly.” 

The honesty in Belle’s words sting, prick into his skin like a thousand needles, but she isn’t wrong and Killian knows he can’t live in the silhouette of denial forever. His Swan is once again a wounded bird; her wings cracked in two by the cruelest of men, and this time they are immortal wounds. Lesions branded into the very fabric of her soul, tethered to her like the light magic she possesses. And this time he can’t fix it no matter how much he loves her. 

-/-/-

She’s perched on a rock when she hears them, lost in the way that water licks up her toes and dampens the rim of her jeans, her gaze fixated on the crescendo of the waves. Roland’s voice ricocheting somewhere to her left tears her from the temporary solace the sea provides, but she tries to ignore her quickening heartbeat. The youngest Locksley boy has found a crab, and is very intent on gaining his father’s attention. Regina, however, walks towards her.     

“Is there a reason you’re down here moping and not over there on that ship?” The words pierce more than she expected, Emma’s brows furrow as her eyes droop to watch the ripples of the water. Silence feels easier when the answer burns in the back of her throat. She didn’t ask for Regina to meet her here anyway. She had hoped for non-confrontational isolation. “You still haven’t talked to him?” 

“Well, I was going to at Granny’s last night, but he never showed.” 

“So why are you here instead of going off to find everyone’s favorite Pirate Mascot?”

_ Because I’m no longer worth it, _ she thinks. He’s had enough of her baggage and deserves someone who isn’t broken. Someone who doesn’t need to be fixed. Not that she would tell Regina that, so she settles for the half truth. “Because...what if he doesn’t want to talk to me? What if I pushed him too far?” 

“You’re serious right now?” 

“Regina -”

“Do you even know him at all?” 

“I -” She wants to protest that of course she knows him, that she  _ loves _ him. But the Killian she knew would have met her at Granny’s, not abandon her at the first sign of opening up - that’s what the twisted Underworld version did.  

“Killian is  _ hurting _ , Emma. Since the moment you came back all he’s wanted to do was take your pain away. But he can’t and it’s _ killing _ him, that’s why he’s backed away. Not because he’s given up but because seeing you suffer is tearing him apart. Hook is a good man, one who loves you more than his own life and if you keep pushing him away you’re only going to hurt him and yourself more. Don’t make the mistake of pushing your happiness aside because you’re scared of something that could never and would never happen.”

“It’s not that simple. I can’t just -- you know there aren’t a lot of people in this world that I trust. Not in the way that I trusted him, and if that’s gone, if I feel like -”

“I know it’s hard but if there is one thing you can always count on it’s that Killian loves you -  _ only you _ . He would move heaven and earth for you _ , _ without a second thought. Love like that doesn’t come around twice. So take my advice just this once, Emma, do not push him away. Talk to Killian. Tell him the truth. I promise you, he will understand.”

Emma nods, biting back a frown and the flutter of anxiety that seems to be her sole emotion. She  _ misses _ him. She misses the way his hand anchors her back in reality and provides a safe haven from the demons of her mind. But Emma knows she can’t walk back into his life like nothing has happened. He deserves more. He deserves an explanation at the least. 

-/-/-

He takes another drink from his flask as a wave crashes against the hull of the Jolly. He is safe here, in the confines of his quarters, away from too many memories of her. Their time together with his ship was brief, consisting mostly of their travels to and from Neverland. He isn't haunted by nights spent curled up in his bunk with her head on his chest or afternoons basking in the warmth of the sun on deck. They are things he wanted, moments he longed for as the summer grew closer, but they don't exist in the telling of their story. They are nothing more than fantasies. 

Killian turns his head towards the windows, watching the sun's rays dance against the blue of the water as it descends into the horizon. It calms him enough, makes the ache dull enough to draw another breath. But Belle’s words still weigh heavy. Emma’s hesitancy and distance still tear him apart, and he isn't sure where to go from here - where his place in Storybrooke lies without Emma by his side.

There’s a knock on his cabin door, three gentle taps against the old wood, and he answers with a grunt, knocking back another swill of dark liquid.

“Hey.” 

Killian whips his head around when he hears her voice. His feet drop to the floor in a loud thud, making a move to stand in front of his love.

“Hi.” There’s a wonderment in his voice as he stares at her. Swan. His Swan. Her eyes are the same brilliant green and somehow less hollow than they were before. The lines around her mouth are less pronounced. She looks lighter. Not happier, exactly, but less broken than before.

“We should talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go! We would love to know what you all think, any feedback or predictions for the next and last chapter. Thank you for sticking with us through this - god knows we were not the most consistent at updating. Every kudos and review means the world to us. Thank you.


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